Of Fear and Second Chances
by Rachel Hawkins
Summary: The camp is worried when Kate and Sawyer disappear. AU, post-Tabula Rasa. Ch. 18: Kate and Sawyer confront their feelings for each other after the missing woman is rescued. Complete.
1. Chimera

Chapter 1: Chimera

Dark. Everything was dark. The small fires still burning around the camp didn't help. The wind blew the embers through the night. The fires started to die as a few raindrops fell.

Kate shifted onto her other side, her eyes fluttering madly. She didn't hear the thready moan escape her lips. She didn't sense the restless movements of her body, or the sand shifting beneath her.

In her mind, she ran. Mindlessly, one foot in front of the other, she tore across the field. It was coming, but she wouldn't let it get her. Not this time. She'd been caught once before, but never again. She wasn't going to become some anonymous face in the system. Or an unknown corpse in a field.

She dared a glance back and cried out. It was close. Too close. It was going to catch her.

She veered sharply to the right. She had to lose it. She couldn't let it catch her. She looked up suddenly and screamed. It was right in front of her. She stumbled and fell to her knees. She looked back over her shoulder and saw not some faceless monster but the marshal. He flashed a cocky grin and held up a pair of handcuffs.

"You lose, Kate."

She scrambled to her feet and took off through the trees. Branches caught at her clothes and scratched at her skin. She didn't care. All she knew was that she had to get away.

She heard someone call out her name but ignored them. She couldn't stop. She had to run. She had to get away.

Suddenly her eyes flew open and she scrambled to her feet. Her head pounded with a fear she couldn't fully remember. Strange images floated through her mind, but one thing kept repeating itself.

Get away. Get away.

She wove between the sleeping castaways and ran toward the trees. The branches were waving back and forth with an incoming storm. She didn't stop to think that it wasn't smart to run into the jungle, didn't stop to think about what could be out there. All she could think of was her overwhelming need to escape.

* * *

Sawyer's eyes flashed open. Wind was whipping the trees back and forth, but everyone else was still asleep. He reached up and rubbed an ache out of his shoulder. "Damn beach," he muttered. It was definitely uncomfortable sleeping on this godforsaken, rubble-strewn sand. There were a million places he'd rather be right now.

But unfortunately no one was going anywhere. If people wanted to delude themselves into thinking rescue was on its way, good for them. But he was a realist. He knew nobody was coming. They were all stuck here.

He pulled out a cigarette and lifted it to his mouth. It was going to be a bitch when they were gone. He'd been smoking since he was a teenager and hadn't ever tried to quit. He'd found several packs in the luggage left from the fuselage, but they wouldn't last forever. At the same time everyone was talking about rationing food and water, he was thinking about rationing his cigarettes.

Well, let the hero worry about food. There were other things he'd rather do.

He turned and tried to find where Kate was sleeping. She could protest all she wanted, but he knew what she was about. She tried to act the domineering tough girl, but he saw through her. Antagonizing her was actually pretty amusing. He figured it would only take another day or two to break through her defenses. Watching her lose her temper was going to be fun.

He frowned when Kate suddenly jumped to her feet and started heading for the jungle. Everyone was so dead-set against going in alone, yet there she was doing exactly that, in the dark no less.

Then the trees started thrashing.

He stood up and looked around as the camp came awake. A few people shouted and backed away, but most watched silently in fear. Then the rain swept across the beach and chaos erupted. People scrambled back and forth, fighting for and diving for cover.

He turned again and watched Kate disappear into the trees. Indecision tore at him. It wasn't his business. She wasn't his problem. Let her do whatever she wanted. If she got eaten by this so-called monster, well, there was nothing he could do. He was nobody's hero.

"Ah, hell," he muttered, and took off toward the trees.

* * *

Kate ran down a narrow path as the rain started falling. This had happened once before, running through the jungle in the rain. But the difference this time was that it was dark and she didn't know what was going on. She didn't remember running into the jungle. She only remembered realizing she was here.

She darted behind a large tree and stopped. She gasped for breath, her hand rubbing at a stitch in her side. She squeezed her eyes shut as fear welled up. She had no idea where she was. It must have been a nightmare that sent her running blindly. The thought disturbed her. It had been a long time since she'd had a nightmare so vivid.

She sank down to the ground and ran her hands through her hair. The rain fell harder, quickly soaking her through. She ignored it. She didn't know what to do. It was dark, and she had no idea which direction she'd come from. She wasn't even sure how long she'd been running before she broke out of the nightmare.

Something moved in the brush, something more than the wind. She slowly came to her feet, her back pressed against the tree. She watched the brush warily, her muscles tensed, ready to run if she had to. Branches and fronds parted and crunched above the noise of the storm. And then they broke apart in front of her and a dark shape emerged.

She screamed, backing around the tree and bending down to pick up a rock. The weight of it was solid in her hand. She palmed it, taking a deep breath and counting to three. Then she leaned around the tree and heaved it at the dark shape in front of her. Hearing a satisfying thud, she took off again. But she felt a presence behind her, and she was afraid she wasn't going to be able to outrun it this time.

This time it wasn't a dream.

She winced as a branch scratched her along her jawline. Branches and brush caught at her clothes and she stumbled.

Someone grabbed her shoulder. "Damnit, Freckles. Why—"

She ignored the voice, spinning around and sending her fist into his jaw. She saw the tall form stumble back, but couldn't tell who it was. She didn't care. She only cared that he was trying to keep her from getting away.

Before she could run again, he advanced on her and grabbed her wrist, holding it down at her side. She tried to swing at him with her free wrist, but he grabbed that one too and used his grip to propel her back against a nearby tree. She jerked and struggled against him, but she couldn't break his grip.

He stood close and tightened his grip on her wrists. "Damnit, stop struggling. You ain't going nowhere."

Kate finally stopped struggling and focused on the voice. She knew it. Her chest heaved with the force of her breathing. Her heart pounded. She looked up, and in the dim light saw Sawyer glaring down at her. For a moment, their eyes caught, and something electric sparked between them. She told herself it was just the storm, nothing more.

"Let me go," she demanded.

"So you can punch me again? I don't think so, Sweetheart."

"It's dark, and you were stalking me through the jungle," she hissed. "What the hell did you expect?"

"I wasn't stalking nobody. I watched you run into the trees and wondered what you were doing."

"So what? You decided to follow me? That either makes you a liar or just really stupid."

He glared at her. "You wanna run that by me again, Freckles?"

"You either followed me in here trying to be a hero and save me, or you just didn't realize you were as likely to get lost in here as I was."

He released her wrists and turned around, looking at the trees. He walked away from her, into the trees, but in a moment he was back. "Great. Just great."

"That's it, isn't it?" she asked. "You were too arrogant to think you'd get lost."

He advanced on her again. "Well, if you hadn't gone running like you were being chased by the damn devil—"

She planted her hands on his chest and pushed him back. "Don't you dare blame this on me. I didn't ask you to follow me. I—"

Something roared in the distance, and they heard the unmistakable sound of a tree trunk snapping. Kate whirled around and involuntarily stepped closer to Sawyer, and his hand came up to rest at her elbow. For a moment everything was quiet, then the brush ahead of them began thrashing back and forth.

Kate turned to him and gripped his arm, urging him forward. "Go," she murmured in a shaky voice. In her mind she saw the pilot's bloody corpse stuck up in the trees.

The brush thrashed in front of them. "Go! Go!"

She took off in the opposite direction, Sawyer right behind her. She fought the scream that welled up in her throat. Just move, she told herself.

You have to get away.

* * *

The storm stopped as suddenly as it had begun. Jack stood and watched as people murmured and started building fires to help dry out. He rubbed his face dry and looked around for Kate. Whatever her secrets, she was level-headed and could help keep everyone calm and together.

Earlier, she'd found a place to sleep off to his left a bit. He looked toward it, but all he could find was a thin airline blanket and a pile of clothes.

"Hey, have you seen Kate?" he asked as Charlie walked by.

"No man, I haven't. I'm going to take this water to Claire, make sure she's all right."

Jack nodded. "Yeah. That's a good idea."

He walked down the beach to where he found Sayid helping a small group of people start a fire. He tapped the other man on the shoulder. "Have you seen Kate?" he murmured when Sayid stood up.

"No. I assumed she was with you."

"She's not."

Sayid looked around the beach as people moved back and forth. "She must be here somewhere."

Jack didn't answer. He only helped stoke the fire, then rubbed his hands together and held them to the warmth of the flames.

"Uh, dudes? Dudes!"

Hurley came running up to them, slightly out of breath, a worried look on his face.

"What is it?" Jack asked.

"Uh, I think the fu—I mean, I think Kate is gone. Someone said they thought they saw her running toward the jungle just before the storm hit."

"What?" Jack spun around and gazed at the tree line, worry creasing his face. The branches of the trees waved gently in the dwindling wind, but there was no sign of activity anywhere near them. No sign of Kate emerging from the jungle unharmed.

"I think that redneck is gone too," Hurley said. "I haven't seen him anywhere."

"Great," Jack murmured as the three of them stood looking at the trees.

"If they have not returned by sun-up, we will go looking for them," Sayid said.

Jack nodded and reluctantly turned away. There was nothing they could do tonight, but he was afraid that by morning it would be too late.


	2. Fall Out

Chapter Two: Fall Out

Kate tore through the jungle. She ran flat out, ignoring the occasional sting when a branch would catch at her skin. Her breath sawed in and out, searing her throat, but she didn't care. A sore throat was a better fate than the pilot's. If she stopped to catch her breath, that thing could catch her.

She felt Sawyer running close behind her. Hard as it was for her to believe, she was glad he was here. Not that she liked him at all, but she knew she would be twice as terrified if she was running through the jungle alone. Her mind flashed back to the polar bear. Whether he was fearless or stupid, or both, he'd stood his ground and killed the bear. She only wished they still had the gun. She didn't know if she'd be able to fire it, but she would have felt better knowing that they had it if they needed it. Because even if she couldn't force herself to use it, she knew Sawyer could.

Her foot hooked on a ground root and she went down hard. One moment she was running, the next she was spitting out a mouthful of dirt. She cried out as pain shot up her leg. She jerked her foot loose from the root and winced.

She got to her knees as Sawyer came back to her. He reached his hand down and helped her up. She gripped his arm and almost fell again. She thought she heard him sigh, but she couldn't be sure, then he took her wrist and pulled her arm around his shoulder. His other arm snaked around her waist.

"Come on," he said, and they took off in a sort of limping run. She gripped his shoulder and felt solid muscle beneath her fingertips. She pushed the thought away. She didn't need to think about his muscles, now or ever. It was a bad idea. Think about the pain instead, she told herself. Worry about the injury. As they covered more distance, it went from throbbing to a sort of warm, diffuse ache. It was probably swelling, she thought. If they were back at the camp, she would have had Jack take a look. Then again, if they were back at the camp, it wouldn't have happened in the first place.

The rain stopped suddenly. She stopped running and looked up as the clouds slowly began to clear. "We should find somewhere to rest," she said. "We can find our way out when it gets light."

"Thought you were afraid to stop in the dark."

"That's why I want to find somewhere open, where we can see anything that comes at us." She knelt down and tightened the laces on her shoes. Her ankle was tender and warm to the touch. Definitely a sprain, but she could move on it, so it must be a mild one.

They hiked in silence for a while, Kate resolutely walking on her own, refusing to lean on Sawyer for support. If she didn't touch him, she would have no reason to think about things she had no business thinking about. Like the subtle bunch and glide of his muscles as he moved. Or the way his hand had clenched on her hip as he helped her walk.

Thoughts like that would do her no good. She needed to concentrate on finding her way back to the beach and learning how to survive here, not on what Sawyer might look like without clothes or what he'd be like in bed. Or in the jungle, as the case may be.

They broke out of the trees and found themselves at the edge of a small valley. Kate leaned back against a tree and looked around. The valley was about two hundred yards across, clear except for a few wild plants growing here and there. If they kept their backs against these last trees, they could see anything that came at them.

"Let's stop here," she said. "If we keep going in the dark, we'll just get more lost."

"Won't we get eaten by the monster if we stop?" he asked, that now-familiar sarcasm in his voice.

She glared at him from under her lashes, then sank down to the ground. "Joke all you want," she said. "You haven't seen what it can do." She stretched her leg out in front of her and rubbed her ankle above her shoe. She left her shoe on, not wanting her ankle to swell any worse than it had.

"You know," Sawyer said, "No one's actually seen this monster. How do I know it really exists?"

"You know what? You're right," Kate said. "There is no monster. We made it up. A group of us takes turns going into the jungle and knocking down trees just so we can scare people." She shifted away from him and wrapped her arms around her body. She didn't care what he thought. She knew something was out there. She might not have seen it, but she'd seen its handiwork.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the brass pilot's wings she'd found in the mud. She didn't know why she'd kept them. Every time she reached into her pocket and touched them, they reminded her of the sheer terror of the pilot being torn from the cockpit. She remembered his blood splattering the glass in front of her. And she remembered looking up into the trees and seeing what was left of his corpse.

Maybe that was why she'd kept them. Because these wings were all that was left of the pilot. She wasn't especially given to sentimentality, but something had made her keep the wings. She looked down at them and flicked away a speck of dirt. Jack had said earlier that they all deserved to start over. Well, maybe she'd start over by remembering this piece of someone who wouldn't get that chance.

* * *

Sawyer leaned back against the tree and scraped his hands through his hair. This was his own damn fault. Every time he tried to do the right thing, it came back to bite him in the ass. One of these days he was going to learn to mind his own business and let people worry about themselves.

He'd gone running after her because he'd sensed she was terrified of something. He'd sensed she was in some sort of danger. He should have left well enough alone.

He pulled a cigarette out of the pack in his pocket and lit it. He took a drag and let the smoke filter to his lungs. "So," he said, "when are you gonna tell me why you went running into the jungle in the middle of the night?"

She looked over at him, but it was a long moment before she spoke. "What does it matter?"

"It matters because we're stuck in this damn jungle and I wanna know why, Freckles."

She looked at him for a moment, then shook her head and turned away. A chill ran through her, and she rubbed her hands up and down her arms. She wasn't going to answer him.

His anger began to simmer beneath the surface. She owed him an explanation. He'd gone after her; now he wanted to know why she'd run in the first place. He wasn't going to sit out here all damn night without an answer. "You ain't getting off that easy. One way or another, you're gonna tell me why you ran."

"It doesn't affect you."

"Doesn't affect me?" He laughed incredulously. "Of course it affects me. Until we get out of this jungle, every damn thing you do affects me."

"Look, we're here, all right?" she said with a shrug. "We're going to be here until it gets light. Nothing can be done about that now. The reason we're here is irrelevant."

"Not to me, Sweetheart." Suddenly he was next to her, his face only inches from hers. Even in the dark, his gaze, full of heat and righteous anger, burned her. She blinked, but resisted the urge to look away. She was trying not to let him intimidate her, but he could see that his proximity shook her up. It cleared away some of that aggravating bravado. Maybe this was the key to learning her secrets. Invade her space.

"Why'd you do it?" he murmured in her ear.

"Go to hell."

He chuckled softly. "All right. You don't wanna talk about that? Let's talk about why you went into the marshal's tent earlier."

She cut her eyes up at him, but didn't say anything. A blank mask descended over her face.

"What did he want from you?" Sawyer asked. "Did he know you had the gun? Did he want you to end it for him?"

"It was a nightmare," she said after a moment.

"What?"

She sighed. "I ran into the jungle because I was caught up in a nightmare and didn't realize what was happening."

"Let me get this straight, Freckles. We're stuck in this damn jungle because you ran into it _when you were asleep_?"

"Think whatever you want. I don't really give a damn." She turned her back on him and leaned her head back against the tree trunk. Her arms wrapped around her body, and he heard her sigh again. He watched her, but she didn't say anything more. The only movement she made was to rub her hands up and down as she shivered.

Truth be told, he was getting cold, too. That rain had soaked through his clothes, which now clung to him like a damp second skin. A chill raced over his body as he realized just how cold the island could get when the sun went down. If everything wasn't wet they could build a fire, but it seemed they were both in for a cold, miserable night.

He looked back at Kate. Her shivers had increased, but she hadn't moved, hadn't spoken. No, she wouldn't be the type to complain about something like being cold. She'd keep her suffering to herself, which should suit him just fine. Any other time, any other place, it probably would have. But here on this island, in the jungle, his instincts and habits were starting to get mixed up. He wasn't a protector. He wasn't a hero. But watching Kate shiver silently was doing something strange to him. Despite his anger at being stuck here, he felt an urge to keep her warm.

He stared at her for several moments, willing her to turn around and tell him she was fine, that she didn't want his comfort or help. But she didn't move, only continued to shiver. Finally, he muttered a particularly inventive curse and scooted up against her. He put his arm around her shoulder to draw her back against his chest, but she went stiff, holding her muscles rigid as she tried to pull away.

"What—?"

"Shut up and lean back," he said crossly. "We'll both stay warmer this way."

He thought, hoped, that she would insist on pulling away and comforting herself. But gradually she relaxed, until her back was pressed against his chest. Her head dropped back against his shoulder, and the tension leaked out of her body. After a time, she fell asleep.

But Sawyer remained awake, intensely aware of the feel of the woman in his arms. How long had it been since he'd stayed with a woman long enough for her to fall asleep in his arms? He couldn't remember. Not that this was the same thing. It wasn't. Not by a long shot.

He refused to admit, even to himself, that a part of him liked the feel of Kate in his arms.

He stared up at the sky. "Ah, hell."


	3. Unveiled

Chapter Three: Unveiled

Jack sat up and rubbed a hand over his face. He grabbed a nearby water bottle and took a sip, then stood and looked out across the camp. It appeared most people were still asleep, but with the sun's rays beginning to glint off the ocean, they wouldn't stay asleep for long.

And when they woke up, there was going to be talk. Not only about the sudden disappearance of Kate and Sawyer, but about what had happened in the tent last night. There was no way anyone could have missed the gunshot. It had echoed across the beach for what seemed like hours.

He had a lot of questions about just what had happened in the tent last night. He wondered what the marshal had said to her, why he'd been so insistent on being alone with the woman who'd apparently been his prisoner before the crash, a woman he'd insisted was dangerous.

If she was so dangerous, why hadn't she used the gun herself? She's asked earlier why he couldn't put the marshal out of his misery, but when she'd had the opportunity to do just that, she hadn't. Instead, she'd given the gun to Sawyer and walked away.

How exactly had Sawyer gotten involved? He'd found the two of them sitting together on the beach, but he had no idea what had been said between them. Had Sawyer somehow figured out that Kate was a fugitive? Had they decided between them to kill the marshal to keep her secret safe?

Standing here in the cold light of dawn, Jack couldn't make himself believe that. Whatever she'd been wanted for, whatever she may have done, Kate didn't strike him as vicious. He didn't believe she would murder someone in cold blood.

Then again, her alleged crime had to have been fairly substantial for a marshal to chase her halfway around the world.

Maybe it didn't matter. Maybe now that they were stranded here, their pasts didn't matter. Kate could have done anything, but there weren't courts on the island. If they were stuck here she couldn't be tried for whatever she'd been accused of, so maybe this could be a fresh start. He hadn't been in Australia for the best of reasons, either. Maybe they could all start over now.

Less than an hour later, he and Sayid stood together, preparing to begin their search.

"People are beginning to talk," Sayid said. "They know Kate and Sawyer are gone, and that is saying nothing of the gunshot we all heard last night."

Jack shook his head. "What, does everyone think they murdered the marshal, then ran off into the jungle together?"

"They know two people went missing after the trees started falling down last night. They believe that you couldn't save the marshal, so you ended his suffering instead."

Jack met Sayid's eyes but didn't say anything. He was still a bit shell-shocked after last night. He would never have believed himself capable of taking a life. He'd taken an oath to heal people. But knowing the marshal was in twice as much pain and would die an excruciatingly slow death, he hadn't been able to take it. So he'd done the only thing he could think of, the one thing he'd never thought he would do. He'd ended the marshal's suffering.

"The best way to keep the worry down is to find them and get them back to the camp," he said, and headed for the trees.

* * *

Kate's eyes blinked open as the first rays of light pierced the darkness. She saw the small valley stretched out in front of her, and it took a moment for the memories of last night to come back to her.

She tipped her head up and looked at Sawyer. The long-past-five-o'clock shadow made him look even more dangerous and wild than he normally did, but there was something about him at sleep that took away just a bit of the hard edge. Not much, but maybe enough so she could deal with him without wanting to slap him.

She eased out of his arms and stood up. Thinking thoughts like that about a man like Sawyer was dangerous. They were rivals. Adversaries. They weren't friends, and they probably never would be. They certainly weren't lovers.

She walked a few yards away and leaned back against a tree. She looked out across the valley and reached up to rub her shoulders. She rolled her ankle, wincing a little at how stiff it had become. She'd be able to walk, but it would slow her down. She hoped they didn't have to run from anything today.

She swallowed around the dryness in her throat. She really wished they had some water, but she hadn't been concerned about that when she'd run into the jungle last night. The nightmare had taken hold of her and nothing else had pierced her mind. Only disturbing images of being chased by a monster, then looking up to see the marshal leering at her. The marshal knew her secrets. She'd had to get away from him.

Sawyer had mentioned the marshal last night. He'd wondered why the marshal wanted to talk to her, and she'd quickly decided that the lesser of two evils would be to tell him about her nightmare. She'd face ridicule and anger, maybe, but it wouldn't be nearly as bad as if he knew her connection with the marshal. That knowledge in Sawyer's hands could be dangerous. She hoped against hope that he would let the subject drop.

She looked over at him, then quickly looked away when a ray of light hit his face and he began to stir. She couldn't let herself have any of those personal thoughts about him today. It was one thing to have them in the dead of night, but this was a new day. If she thought of him like that at night, she could pretend it had been a dream. But in the light it was different. In the light she couldn't hide.

"You weren't gonna leave without me, were you, Freckles?"

She turned and watched him come to his feet and run a hand through his hair. She shrugged. "Won't say the thought didn't cross my mind."

"Well, send it right back where it came from. If I'm gonna get eaten, so are you."

She sent him a fake smile. "I thought you didn't believe in the monster."

"Not saying I do. But if we run into another damn bear, I ain't sacrificing myself for you."

"I wouldn't expect you to." She turned and started walking across the open expanse of the valley. She'd learned a long time ago not to ask a man for anything, and she wasn't about to change that now.

Sawyer couldn't help taking a peak at Kate's ass as they walked across the valley and toward the trees on the other side. Looking had never hurt anybody, especially if they didn't know about it. He chuckled to himself. It was probably a good think she didn't realize what he was doing. She'd narrow her eyes and demand in that righteous voice that he'd better stop or else. She might even slap him.

Of course, that might not be such a bad thing. She'd raise her hand to slap him, then he'd catch her wrist and pull her up against him. She'd try to pull away, but he'd simply plant his other hand at the small of her back and dip his head low...

Maybe a little something physical would wipe away some of the shock left over from last night's horrible episode in the tent.

* * *

_He sat in the sand and watched impassively as Freckles walked toward the Hero. He took a drag off his cigarette. He couldn't hear what the Hero said, but Kate looked back at him briefly before walking off in the opposite direction. The Hero walked a little ways down the beach and stood staring out at the water._

_He looked back at Freckles. She'd pulled on that white shirt she sometimes wore, and he could see the gun poking out of the back of her waistband. He watched as she headed for the tent, where the marshal was moaning in pain. Interesting. What was she doing? What had the Hero said to her? Had he asked her to end the marshal's suffering because he couldn't do it himself?_

_For a few moments she stood outside the tent, as if she was unsure of whether or not she should go in. But she did, eventually, and the tarp fell back into place behind her, obscuring his view. Damn, he wished he knew what was going on in there. He wanted to know so badly that he found himself on his feet, ambling slowly toward the tent. _

_He stopped a couple feet short of the tarp. He heard Kate's voice, but the sound was too low for him to make out the words. He took a couple steps toward the tent and heard the marshal cough, a choked, tortured cough._

"_...you would have got away if you hadn't saved him," came a low, raspy voice that could only be the marshal's._

"_In case you didn't notice, I did get away."_

"_You don't look free to me."_

_Well, well, well, Sawyer thought. It seemed Freckles had more than a few secrets. Back in the jungle, moments after he'd shot that damn bear, Al Jazeera had accused him of being the prisoner, and nobody had objected, but it had been her all along. Freckles was the criminal. Who would have thought? He was pondering what to do with his new-found knowledge when their voices floated out to him again._

"_Kate...I'm going to die, right?"_

_There was a long hesitation. "Yeah."_

"_Are you gonna do it, or what?"_

_The hesitation was longer this time, and he could almost feel Kate's tension reach out and wrap around him. He held his breath, leaning his head toward the tent as he waited for her answer. _

"_I...I can't," she said finally. "I'm not a murderer."_

"_Then what are you?"_

_She didn't answer him. Sawyer thought he heard a swish of fabric, like she was pulling the gun from her waistband, but he couldn't be sure. He took a drag off his cigarette and spun away as the smoke went down the wrong pipe. He pressed his fist against his mouth and coughed it back up as quietly as he could._

_A moment later the tarp flapped and crackled as Kate leaned out. She looked down the beach, toward the fire she'd built with his lighter. She looked around for a second, then tipped her head back and covered her face with her hand._

"_Looking for someone?" he murmured as he stepped toward her._

"_What are you doing up here?"_

"_Finished my smoke," he said as he dropped the butt into the sand and smashed it with his shoe._

_She looked up at him, and her eyes were huge and haunted. He felt something close to sympathy. It wasn't something small that put that look into a person's eyes._

_She shook her head as the marshal moaned again. "I can't," she whispered. She looked back toward the tent, then down at the gun she still clutched in her hand. A hand that shook, he noticed._

"_Give it to me," he said finally. When he held the cold steel in his hand, his heart started to pound. If he turned and went into the tent, there would be no going back. He refused to look at Kate again. He didn't want to think about those haunted eyes. _

_He took a deep breath, muttered a curse under his breath, and stepped inside the tent._

* * *

Sawyer shook his head. When he'd stepped into the tent last night and seen the marshal lying there in agony, he'd known what he had to do. He'd held the gun, wishing someone else was standing there instead of him. He didn't want the responsibility. He didn't want the weight of this man's life on his shoulders. But Kate couldn't bring herself to do it, and he knew the Hero sure as hell wouldn't. So there was nobody left to do it but him. The marshal even asked him to pull the trigger.

It should have been simple. He wouldn't need more than the one bullet left in the gun. A single squeeze of the trigger, then the man's heart would stop and his suffering would end. But things hadn't gone as planned. He'd been outside the tent, arguing with the Hero, when they both heard the marshal's choked breaths. He'd felt something akin to abject horror in that moment. He'd ducked back into the tent and watched blood leak out of the hole in the marshal's chest. His eyes were closed, but he was alive. The shot had missed its mark.

That was what he meant, about trying to do the right thing and having it come back to bite him in the ass. He'd only been trying to help, to ease the man's suffering. But he hadn't helped. He'd made it worse.

He'd felt helpless in that moment, and helplessness made him angry. He didn't think there was anything he hated more than being helpless. Remembering those first minutes after the shot, and the sudden silence that had come moments before the Hero came back out of the tent, he felt everything wash over him again. The helplessness, the shock, and the anger. The anger flowed and pooled around him like a slick dark oil spill, and it made him want to lash out. And since Kate was the only one around, she became his target.

"You don't have any idea where you're going, do you?"

She turned and glared at him. "If you know a better route, by all means, lead the way."

"Nah. Wouldn't want to do your job for you. Again," he finished under his breath.

Kate stopped walking and met his eye. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I think you know, Freckles."

"Why don't you tell me?" she said, getting right up in his face. "Why don't you tell me what my job was?"

The corner of his mouth quirked up, but his eyes remained hard and angry. Instead of answering her question, he asked, "Who'd you save, Freckles? Who'd you save that kept you from escaping the marshal?"

The question hit her, and she took a step back before she could help herself. He knew she wanted to pretend she didn't know what he was talking about, but the step back made that pointless. She knew exactly what he meant.

"So you know," she said finally, pacing away before she turned back to face him again. "Is that supposed to make me afraid of you? Or indebted to you? I do what you want, or you tell everyone? Is that it?"

"Just lettin' you know what's going on."

"And what exactly is going on?" she asked. "Just how much of that conversation did you hear?"

"Sweetheart, I heard enough to make your stay on this island a lot more uncomfortable than it already is."

Something in Kate went cold at the threat. She was tired of running from threats, tired of being backed against a wall. They could sit here all day, trading barbs and insults, playing some twisted game of one-upmanship. Or she could end it here and find her way back to the beach. "I don't think you're going to want to do that."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't think anyone knows who pulled that trigger last night, or that the bullet isn't what killed him. But maybe they'd be interested in that, too."

Without waiting for a response, she turned and stalked into the trees. He could follow or not. She didn't care. In fact, she might prefer it if he stayed behind. He was an even bigger asshole than she'd imagined. She couldn't believe that only a few hours ago she was imagining what it would be like to go to bed with him. Well, that was one problem she couldn't imagine having again.

She kept those thoughts in her mind, kept her anger sparking as she stomped and pushed her way through the trees. Distantly her mind told her that she should slow down, not use up so much energy when she had no idea how far or which direction it was to the beach. But she ignored the voice and kept going. Kept pushing on, ignoring the sound of Sawyer following behind her.

She was successful at pushing everything else out of her mind. That is, until the body fell out of the sky.


	4. The Graveyard

Chapter Four: The Graveyard

A scream ripped from Kate's throat as the mangled corpse landed only inches in front of her. She stumbled back, bouncing off the hard wall of Sawyer's chest. She spun around, away from the corpse, and slammed her eyes shut. She didn't realize that she clutched a handful of Sawyer's shirt in her fist.

"What the goddamned hell...?" Sawyer muttered, reaching up to hold her elbow as he leaned around her to get a better look.

The corpse was male, though it was in bad shape. Decomposition had begun, and the entire thing was covered with red-brown blood stains.

"Do you believe in the monster now?" Kate asked in a shaky voice.

"You think some monster did that?"

"I know it, because I've seen this before. This is exactly what happened to the pilot."

"Really?" he asked, one eyebrow raised derisively.

"Yeah. Really. After that thing ripped him out of the cockpit, we found him stuck up in some trees, soaked with blood."

"So that's the monster's secret. It rips people out of planes and sticks them in trees." He rolled his eyes. "Really, Freckles, I would have thought you were smarter than that."

She dropped her grip on his shirt as if it had burned her. "Do you know what an ass you are? Do you even care?"

She paced away and squeezed her eyes shut. Where had the body come from? Was it indeed another victim of the monster? Was this someone from their crash? She didn't want to look again. She wanted to run away and pretend none of this had ever happened. But she needed to know if she recognized the body, if it was someone from the beach.

Pressing her lips together and swallowing the acrid taste in her mouth, she slowly turned her head.

The body was that of a dark-haired male. Her first thought was of the pilot, but no, she thought, this wasn't the pilot. This man had been tall and lanky, and was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt that had once been blue but now was stained an ugly red-brown from the blood that had soaked through it. There were deep gouges carved into his cheeks and forehead, and it looked as though insects had gotten to him, even high up in the trees, if indeed that was where he had been.

This man was not anyone she recognized from the beach. Had he been catapulted out of the plane when the tail broke off? Had he survived the crash? She hoped for his sake he'd been dead when the monster found him. Because even if she didn't know who he was, even if she didn't know how he'd gotten there, she knew how he'd gotten those wounds and how he'd ended up in the trees.

There was no way to identify the man. His family and friends would never know what happened to him. Her eyes slid shut and she bowed her head as she fought a sudden rush of emotion. That could be here lying there, mutilated and forgotten. Why had she lived when this man had died? Why had any of them lived?

"You gonna stand there and stare at it forever?" Sawyer asked, breaking her train of thought.

She opened her eyes, willing away the moisture that had pooled behind her eyelids. She couldn't show Sawyer any more weakness. He already had her at far too great a disadvantage with his knowledge of her relationship with the marshal, even if she'd covered up her fear.

She shook her head and looked off into the trees. "If this body is from the crash, there has to be wreckage around here somewhere," she said.

"And?"

"And if there's wreckage, we may be able to find supplies."

"Exactly what supplies to you expect to find?"

"A fully-prepared seven-course meal and a payphone to call home," she shot back, glaring at him.

He chuckled, giving light to the dimples that had probably broken a thousand hearts. She had to look away from him. She wasn't going to let his carefree charm affect her. She wasn't going to become one thousand and one. She wasn't going to be a conquest, not another girl who was forgotten the moment they were through.

"Testy, testy," he murmured, his eyes gleaming.

She shook her head. "This is all a big joke to you, isn't it? Never mind that we're standing next to a dead man."

"And there's a few dozen dead men back at the beach. There's gotta be some way to break the tension, Sweetheart. Especially since other...avenues of entertainment seem to be closed," he said, not-so-subtly looking her up and down.

"Damn you," she whispered, her fists clenched. "Damn you." She pivoted on her heel and marched off into the trees, away from the body, away from him.

"Come on, Freckles," he called out. "I was only playing."

"Yeah. That's your problem."

"You need to lighten up," Sawyer said. "Gonna make yourself crazy if you take everything so damn serious."

"Being stuck here isn't serious?" she asked, then pressed on ahead without waiting for an answer. She didn't want to listen to whatever smartass comment he made next. She just wanted to get out of here.

* * *

Watching Kate begin to crack was bleeding away some of Sawyer's anger. He had to do something to break the tension. He'd woken up this morning before dawn to feel Kate sleeping in his arms. He'd sat there for several minutes, trying not to think that holding her felt good. When he'd felt her beginning to stir he'd remained still and kept his eyes closed. No need to let her know he'd been awake thinking about her.

Nor did he want her to know that the appearance of the body disturbed him. He'd been sure that rumors of the pilot's grisly death had been exaggerated, but now he wasn't so sure. That body could have been ejected from the plane, then hacked up by flying debris or tree branches, but he didn't think so. No, something living had made those marks on him.

Sometime later he stumbled and pitched forward, barely catching himself on a low-hanging tree branch. Taking a deep breath, he muttered a curse and looked back to see what had tripped him.

A leg. Severed above the knee, still clad in khakis and a Converse sneaker.

He pressed his lips together and looked away. Damn it, he was getting tired of this. He hadn't signed up for this shit. Not for everyone's hostility, not for finding severed body parts, not for any of it.

Kate was still plunging forward, about a dozen yards ahead of him, seemingly unaware that she wasn't alone on the island. She hadn't noticed the leg. Nor did she see, he realized, that she was on a collision course with a pair of bloody corpses, one tangled in some bushes, the other blocking the path directly in front of her.

He called out to her, but she either didn't hear him or ignored him. "Damn it." He took off at a run and caught up with her in seconds, grabbing her arm and yanking her back an instant before her foot connected with the body in her path.

She slammed against him and he staggered back, a thick tree trunk the only reason he kept his balance. For a moment they both breathed hard. Then she rounded on him and demanded, "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm saving you, Sweetheart," he said, his lips twisted in a sardonic grin.

"When did I ask to be saved?"

He dropped her arm and leaned back against the tree, slipping his hands into his pockets. He cocked his head. "Why don't you turn around and see what you weren't paying attention to before you get pissed at me?"

She took a step back, putting space between them. She met his gaze, then slowly turned and realized where she'd been headed. When her eyes connected with the bodies ahead, she gasped in shock. She immediately spun around, her eyes slamming shut, her face twisted into a mask of revulsion and fear. She almost looked as though she was fighting tears.

She slowly stepped past him and tried to pull herself together, and for once he didn't antagonize her. After all, he wasn't a complete bastard. He turned and saw her brace a hand against a tree and take several deep breaths, her shoulders heaving up and down. She was still for a long moment, then took a deep breath and turned around again. Her eyes connected briefly with his before she walked into the trees, making a wide arc around the bodies. He followed, not able to take his eyes off her.

Damn it, he was supposed to be sending her over the edge, not the other way around. And the hell of it was, she wasn't even trying.

It was maybe half an hour later that a sudden glare nearly blinded him. He closed his eyes and ducked his head. He stepped to the side of the path they were on and shielded his eyes with his hand before looking again. Through a break in the trees he saw a huge chunk of shiny white metal. He stared at it, and a second later realized Kate had been right. Not far from the bodies they'd found were the twisted remains of another piece of the plane.

Along their path, he'd noticed signs of a couple other bodies, along with stray luggage and personal effects that had been tossed from the plane and spread across the island. He hadn't mentioned what he'd seen to Kate, who had remained near him and quiet since they'd found the bodies. But now, if any part of the passenger or luggage compartments had survived the landing, there should be something they could use. Hopefully water, he thought, taking note of his parched throat.

Kate noticed the wreckage too. She glanced up at him before both of them left the path and broke through the trees that sheltered the wreck.

The tall brush the wreck had landed in had been smashed. They stepped into the clearing, Sawyer heading for the wreckage while Kate wandered into the open space. She stood, angled away from the twisted metal, staring into the distance.

He picked his way through the debris field, stopping and kneeling in front of what looked like a smashed drink cart. He tried to pry the door open, but it was stuck. Muttering a curse, he stood up and stomped on it. He slammed his foot against it, once, twice, until finally, on the third try, it sprang open. Amongst the broken shards of vodka-scented glass, a bottle of water tumbled out. He almost laughed. It wasn't a seven-course meal, but it was something.

He picked it up and looked at it, his lips twisting into a half-grin. "Hey, Freckles," he said.

When she turned around, he held the bottle up so she could see it. When she realized what she was looking at, her eyes lit with the first life he'd seen all day. And then she did something that shocked them both.


	5. Supply and Demand

Chapter Five: Supply and Demand

For a moment Kate stared at him, caught by that charming-yet-dangerous half-grin. And then she was moving, her feet carrying her closer and closer to him. When she was as close as she could get, she reached up, took his face in her hands, and kissed him. It was no gentle kiss either. Rather it seemed in the back corner of her mind she was kissing him as though it was the last kiss she'd ever get.

After a stunned instant he responded, his tongue snaking out to tangle with hers. His lips pressed and glided against hers, and his beard stubble scratched her cheeks. One hand pressed against her back, pulling her closer. His fingers danced at the waistband of her pants, then dipped lower.

He dropped the water bottle, and when it crunched against the brush Kate broke away with a gasp. She breathed hard, taking several steps back and looking anywhere but him.

"I...uh...I don't...I..." She glanced up and saw that half-grin again tipping the corners of his mouth. She held her arm out, then dropped it to her side.

"Never seen you speechless before, Freckles."

"Damn it," she said, bending to pick up the water bottle. She glanced at him again, then turned and stalked into the trees. When she was out of sight, she leaned back against a tree and closed her eyes. What the hell was she thinking? Kissing Sawyer had to rank right up there on the list of most foolish things she'd ever done. No good could come from it. A few moments of pleasure in exchange for endless teasing and torment. That's what she'd get.

Why had she done it? She wanted to chalk it up to exhaustion and overloaded emotions. She didn't want to think that there might be another reason, like a part of her had wanted to kiss Sawyer.

There had been something simmering between them since that first antagonistic confrontation in the jungle. She didn't even like him. He was an ass. The kind of man she should avoid at all costs. But she'd kissed him.

And she wanted to do it again.

She shook her head and took a sip from the water bottle. It was warm, but at least it was wet. It slid down her throat, soothing the dry burn and settling in her empty stomach.

She sank down and sat in the grass, leaning her back against the tree. What was going to go wrong next? Her life had been spinning out of control for months and showed no signs of settling down. She'd spent the last of her money going to Australia, thinking nobody would go that far to find her. But she'd been wrong. Not only had the marshal come looking for her, but he'd found her. He'd caught up with her because Ray had made her feel guilty for planning to leave in the middle of the night. So she'd let herself be convinced to stay one more night. It had been one more in a long line of huge mistakes.

* * *

"_Hey, Kate."_

_Her eyes slid shut at the sound of the voice. Fear and dread coursed through her. Her breath sawed in and out of her lungs, and a mixture of sweat and dirt stung her eyes. No, her mind cried. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. It couldn't end this way. _

_She turned her head and met the marshal's eyes. They were smug and triumphant, and it was clear that he'd believed all along that this would be the outcome of their little cat and mouse game. He'd believed he would find her and bring her in, and he'd been right. She was caught._

"_It's been a while," he said, holding the gun steady as he glanced down at Ray. He was coughing, trying to come around, though his eyes were still closed. His face was streaked with blood and dirt, his body oddly distorted due to his missing arm._

_The marshal looked back at Kate. "I wondered how far you'd go to get away. Now I know you'd do anything. Even murder an old man."_

_Kate looked down at Ray. "That wasn't supposed to happen," she whispered as he coughed again. Ray wasn't supposed to get hurt. She liked Ray. For a short time, he'd made her life bearable. He'd been someone normal in a life filled with chaos. But the trust she'd started to build for him had been shattered. Now she felt only sadness and regret._

"_Let's go," the marshal said. _

_She looked over at him, then back down at Ray. "You're just going to leave him here?"_

"_It's not like you care. You're the one who did this to him."_

_Kate squeezed her eyes shut. Don't let him get to you, she told herself. Don't let him make you feel guiltier than you already do. "You can't just leave him."_

"_I'll call the police and get them out here. But I'm not giving you another chance to run. You're going to face what you did. Now move."_

_He gestured with the gun for emphasis. She had no choice. She had been running for a long time, but even she couldn't outrun a bullet. She didn't want to think about whether or not he would actually use the gun if she tried to run. She couldn't take the chance._

_She let him take her back to his truck, then squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her lips together when he frisked her for weapons. He opened the passenger side door and pulled a pair of handcuffs out of the glovebox. She felt tears welling up and willed them away. She was not going to show him any more weakness._

_When the cold steel clicked around her wrists she remained outwardly stoic and calm, though a wild sense of panic was clawing at her. She was caught. Endless months of running and worrying were over, but she was about to plunge into another kind of nightmare. This time, there was no escape._

* * *

Kate took another sip of water. She _had_ escaped, but in a way the island was another sort of prison. She had her physical freedom, but she was still stuck here, just like everyone else.

A few minutes later she walked back into the clearing. Sawyer was on his knees, pawing through a suitcase. "Anything useful?" she asked.

"Couple bottles of water," he said as he turned. "All the booze got smashed. Some interesting clothes in a suitcase over there you might like. Oh, and these." He reached into his pocket and pulled out three condoms.

She rolled her eyes. "You're not going to be needing those."

He smirked as he put the packets back in his pocket. "You're the one who kissed me, Sweetheart."

"That was a mistake," she said. "It was just overloaded emotions. The last couple of days have been stressful."

"Or maybe that was you giving in to what you really want."

"Not a chance." She met his eyes, then turned away and sat down on an airplane seat that had broken free. She leaned back and closed her eyes as she took another sip of water. There was no way she was going to admit that part of her wanted him. It would only add fuel to the fire.

"Ah, so you wanna play the denial game? That's cool. For now."

She glared at him. "Have you found anything to eat?" she asked.

He tossed her a packet of peanuts as he sat down next to her. She opened the bag and tossed a couple peanuts into her mouth. She didn't particularly like peanuts, but they were better than nothing. If she was going to stay on her feet long enough to get back to the beach, she was going to have to deal with them. And with Sawyer.

She felt him next to her, felt the heat coming off his body, but she refused to look at him. She didn't want to see the look she knew was in his eyes. Evil glee would probably describe it, she thought. He probably loved the fact that she'd initiated the kiss. Maybe he'd even been prodding her this entire time on purpose, just to see that happen. Maybe a kiss hadn't been his ultimate goal, but his goal could have been to simply see her lose her cool. And she'd certainly done that.

She finished her peanuts and took a few swallows from her water bottle to wash down the salty aftertaste. She set the bottle on her seat and wandered over to the suitcase Sawyer had pointed out. She opened it up and shook her head when she saw all of the lingerie and short skirts. She turned to glare at him, but he only smiled. Damn him, she thought.

She found a couple of t-shirts in the suitcase that she could use. She shook her head, trying not to think that they belonged to a dead woman. There was nothing that could be done about that. Many people had died in the crash. That was a reality that couldn't be avoided. But the people who had lived had to find a way to survive until rescue came. So she took the shirts, re-folded them, and set them aside.

She moved on to another suitcase. It must have belonged to a teenage girl, she thought, judging by the trendy clothes and huge makeup bag tucked inside. There were a couple of fashion magazines, a portable CD player, and a journal. She picked up the small book and brushed her thumb over the cover. Whoever it had belonged to, they'd decorated it themselves with doodles and hearts and the names of half a dozen different boys. She tapped the book against her palm. It seemed wrong to read it, but it seemed wrong to leave it here in the jungle.

She added the journal to the pile of things she was taking with her.

Eventually Sawyer joined her, and in half an hour they'd gone through everything there was to be found. She'd packed all the clothes she could into a duffel bag they'd found. The journal was tucked into the bottom of the bag. They had three water bottles and a half-dozen bags of peanuts, which Sawyer carried in a small satchel.

"Ready to hit the highway, Freckles?" he asked.

She was about to answer when she saw the corner of a briefcase sticking out from beneath a bush at the edge of the clearing. She set the duffel bag down and walked over to the briefcase. It was expensive leather with brass fittings. She tried to pop it open, but it was locked. She wished she wasn't the curious type. They should be leaving. She figured it was mid-afternoon, but she had no idea just how long it would be before it got dark. She didn't think they'd make it out of the jungle before nightfall, but she wanted to get as far away from here as she could.

But she wanted to know what was in the briefcase.

"Know anything about popping briefcase locks?" she asked Sawyer.

His lips tilted into a grin. He dropped the satchel and held out his hand. "Let's see what you got."

She handed the case to him and watched as he examined it. He played with the locks, then pulled out a pen and worked it into one of the keyholes. A moment later the lock flicked open, and he went to work on the second lock. When it popped open, he set the case on the ground and lifted the lid.

Kate's eyes widened. "Oh, my God."


	6. Bad Moon Rising

Chapter Six: Bad Moon Rising

"This woman is dead."

Kate stared down at the pictures, her stomach turning over and back. They'd opened the briefcase to find a sheaf of bland accounting papers, tax forms, and inventory sheets for some kind of coffee shop chain. Just another traveling businessman, she'd thought.

She'd been wrong.

In the lid pocket, they'd found a roll of Tums, a travel itinerary, a copy of Money magazine, and three photographs of a dead woman.

There was a bluish cast to her skin, and though her eyes were open they were glassy and unseeing. There were faint smears of blood visible on her skin. The first photograph was a close-up, a disturbing head shot of those sightless eyes. The other two were full-body shots that showed various bruises and marks.

The woman, whoever she was, had been brutalized and murdered.

Kate turned away, her eyes sliding shut as she swallowed back the bile that rose in her throat. She took several deep breaths. She hugged her arms to her sides.

"You gonna faint on me, Freckles?"

"Not if I don't look at those pictures again," she murmured under her breath.

"Look on the bright side. Whoever's this was, he's dead."

"How do you know that?" she asked, turning back to him but not looking down at the briefcase.

"Would you leave somethin' like that behind?"

"Maybe he couldn't find it."

"You found it right under a bush," he pointed out.

She wanted Sawyer to be right. She wanted the owner of the pictures to be dead. She didn't want to think about a murderer running around on the island. They already had to deal with polar bears and who knew what else; she didn't want to have to deal with murderers too.

"Let's just get out of here," she said, picking up the duffel bag and slinging it over her shoulder. She glanced back at him, then turned and walked away from the wreckage.

"You know, I wouldn't have pictured you as the squeamish type," Sawyer said.

She batted a tree branch out of her way. "I guess you don't know me very well."

"So tell me somethin' I don't know."

"Like what?" she asked, glancing back over her shoulder.

"Oh, I don't know, Freckles. Like what you did to get you arrested by that marshal."

"I thought that subject was closed."

"To you, maybe. I still don't know what I wanna know."

Her steps faltered just a bit, and she forced the memories away before they could swamp her. Now wasn't the time to get bowled over by her emotions. She was already close enough to the edge as it was.

"It's over and done with," she said. "I'm not going to get into it."

"Bet you told the good doctor."

She turned and scowled at him. "What?"

"On the beach yesterday. Before you went into the tent."

"I didn't tell him anything. And I'm not going to tell you either."

"Aw, come on, Freckles. No one's around to hear you."

She ignored him, pressing on through the jungle.

"At least let me see your mug shot."

"You want to see my mug shot?" she asked, glancing back again.

"Let me see what a badass criminal you are."

She couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled up. She was some badass. Running into the jungle during a nightmare. Clinging to Sawyer at the slightest hint of something wrong. Letting him deliberately provoke her into losing her temper. Kissing him and liking it far more than she should. Yeah, she was a real badass.

"I don't have it," she told him.

"Well, where is it?"

She shrugged. "I think Jack has it."

"Why did you give it to him?"

"I didn't give it to him. The marshal had it, and Jack told me yesterday that he'd seen it. So I guess he has it now."

"Why didn't you get it back?"

She'd had other things on her mind. Her throat had been sore from nearly being choked moments earlier, and the marshal's condition had been eating at her. Yes, his death would mean a sort of freedom for her, but she hadn't been thinking about that when she'd asked Jack to end his suffering. She'd only wanted the pain to stop.

"I guess I wasn't badass enough to get it back," she said, and Sawyer laughed.

* * *

Jack leaned back against a tree and took a sip from one of the water bottles they'd brought. He was exhausted. He and Sayid had been hiking for hours, but so far had found no sign of Kate or Sawyer.

He was more than a little worried. Whatever had killed the pilot was out there somewhere. He'd seen it thrashing in the trees last night. He was not going to think that it may have already found them. It was bad enough that the marshal was dead. He wasn't going to think that Kate and Sawyer were dead too.

"We should head back," Sayid said. "It will be getting dark soon."

"We still have some time," Jack said, pushing away from the tree.

"We don't want to get caught out here in the dark."

Jack knew he was right, but he didn't want to give up. It was too dangerous out here. He didn't want to think of Kate out here in the dark. Alone with Sawyer. Jack didn't trust him. He was a hothead, and he'd used a gun twice in the three days since the crash. There was no telling what he would do if he was lost in a hostile jungle.

"Why would they run into the jungle at night?" he wondered aloud.

"There is no telling what threat they may have sensed on the beach," Sayid said.

"Kate saw the pilot die. She wouldn't run into the jungle for just anything. And if there was a threat big enough to make her run, why didn't anyone else see it?"

"I don't have an explanation now, but we will figure it out tomorrow."

Jack hoped he was right. Without any food or water, neither of them would survive long in the jungle. And that was if they stayed safe from whatever predators were out there. And if they stayed safe from each other.

With a last glance behind him, he turned and followed Sayid back to the beach.

* * *

Sawyer walked beside Kate, batting branches out of the way as they went.

Kate had cracked, and though things were now a lot more interesting they were also more complicated. She'd kissed him, and it had been damn good. They shot sparks off each other, that was for sure. He wondered if he could goad her into another kiss. Making out with Kate was a hell of a better way to pass the time than anything he'd found so far. Now if he could just convince himself that all he wanted was a few kisses.

He'd seen the way she gravitated toward Jack whenever they were at the beach. It annoyed him to no end, seeing yet another golden boy get the girl. It always seemed to happen the same way. The golden boy got the girl, the girl got bored and cheated with a guy like him, then everything went to hell.

Well, he was older and wiser now. He knew the score. If Jack wanted Kate, all he'd have to do was flash a few of those fancy doctor skills of his and he'd probably get her. It shouldn't matter. He shouldn't care. He didn't want a relationship with Kate. He didn't want a relationship with anyone. But mostly, he didn't want to admit that it burned, just a little, seeing her with Jack.

Then he smirked. He was pretty sure she hadn't kissed the good doctor. Not yet. So that was one point in his favor.

He looked up ahead at her. She was picking her way along the narrow path, the duffel bag she'd taken bouncing against her leg. He had no idea what she had in there, but he wouldn't have been disappointed if she'd taken some of the lingerie he'd found. He'd seen it and immediately cursed himself for picturing Kate wearing it. He didn't care what she wore. He wasn't looking for romance, not from her or anyone. Only sex.

He almost had himself convinced of that.

A hint of a sickly-sweet smell wafted over him. He frowned, trying to figure out why the smell was different from the dozen other unpleasant jungle odors. He concentrated on the smell as they slowly walked down the path. It was the beginnings of decay, along with a hint of some kind of fuel, he thought.

He ran right into Kate, who had frozen in the middle of the path. "What are you doing, Freckles?"

"That smell," she said.

"Yeah, what about it?"

"I think I know where it's coming from."

"What are you talking about?"

She turned to look at him. "I think I know where we are."

"Okay, where are we?" he asked, his disbelief clear.

"The cockpit," she said quietly, her voice shaking along with her body. She met his eyes for only a second, then turned and resolutely continued making her way along the path.

A few minutes later they punched through the trees and into the clearing. The hulk of the cockpit gleamed in the beginnings of twilight. The smell was sickening, the gaping wound of the fuselage garish and disturbing. Kate stood at the edge of the clearing, her back ramrod stiff, her face a blank mask. She probably didn't even realize that she'd again grabbed a handful of his shirt.

They both stared at the wreckage, neither one realizing that someone was watching them from the other side of the clearing.


	7. Carnage

Chapter Seven: Carnage

Kate stared at the wreckage, nausea clawing at her. The last time she'd been here, she'd learned the truth of their situation. She'd met the plane's pilot. And then she'd watched him die.

That thing—whatever it was—had been only a shadow passing in front of the windshield, something heavy stomping through the brush. It was an unknown entity, an unseen terror. Then the glass had shattered, and the pilot had been ripped from the plane. The trees had thrashed back and forth for a moment before blood splashed the glass in front of her.

She remembered screaming, remembered feeling only blind terror and an overwhelming, dizzying need to escape. If she closed her eyes, she could still see the blood splashing the glass, could still see the corpse stretched across the tree branches.

She started shaking. She didn't want to be here. There was evil here in this clearing, evil and tragedy. She'd seen enough tragedy, and she could do without the evil. She wrapped her arms around her body and told herself shed be all right. Nothing was going to happen. That thing wasn't going to come back.

"Hey, Freckles, you in there?"

She shook off the haze and looked up at him. "What?"

"Been calling your name for the last five minutes. You've been standing there like a zombie."

"Well, here I am. What do you want?"

"Like I been saying. We need to check it out, see what's in there."

"I don't think so," she said, shuddering at the very thought. She wanted to get as far away from it as fast as she could. She was not going back in there. Not after what had happened last time.

"Use your head, Freckles. We got what? A bottle and a half of water left, plus a few packets of peanuts? That ain't gonna last us long enough to get back to the beach."

"There's probably nothing in there," she said.

"If we found stuff in that little piece of wreckage back there, what makes you think there's nothing in here?"

She didn't answer him. She didn't want him to know the reason for her reluctance was fear. She had to be strong. She had to hold it together. She wouldn't do anybody any good if she fell apart, and she didn't want to be the object of either Sawyer's anger or his pity.

"Tell you what," he said, heading toward the cockpit, "I'll search the damn thing and you can wait here. Yell if you hear the monster coming."

Kate watched as he disappeared inside the wreckage. She wrapped her arms around her body and shivered. The temperature had a way of plummeting when the sun went down. That's why she was shivering. Not because she was terrified of being out here alone.

A twig snapped nearby and she whirled around, her heart leaping into her throat. Her breath shuddered in an out of her lungs. "Hello?" she said, but it was less than a whisper. She unconsciously took a step toward the cockpit.

Leaves rustled just to her right. She gasped, her eyes slamming shut for a moment. She took a deep breath before scanning the trees, but in the deepening twilight couldn't make anything out. Only gently waving branches and shadows upon shadows. "Is someone out there?" she murmured.

Her eyes darted back and forth, her hands held in front of her to defend against the unseen threat. Fear swam through her head. And when leaves crunched under approaching footsteps, she dropped the duffel bag and ran for the wreckage.

She climbed inside and leaned back against the first intact seat she came to. She leaned her head back and took several deep breaths. She was finally getting herself under control when the seat she was leaning against suddenly reclined and she found herself in the lap of a dead man. His eyes were open, his skin gray and cold.

A short scream burst from her lips. She jumped up and stumbled back, falling and hitting her head against another nearby seat.

Sawyer sprang up from where he'd been searching a suitcase several rows back and shined a flashlight in her direction. "Damnit, Freckles. What the hell are you doing?"

She took a moment to catch her breath, holding out a hand to block the light that shined into her eyes. She hoisted herself to her feet and said, "I think there's someone out there."

"What are you talking about?"

"I heard someone moving around, in the trees at the edge of the clearing."

"Did you ask who was there?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, I did. Nobody answered." She didn't add that she hadn't spoken loud enough to be heard from more than two feet away.

"It was probably a rabbit or something," he said dismissively. "You spook too easy."

She glared at him. "It wasn't a rabbit, alright?" I heard footsteps."

He looked at her for a moment, then turned back to the suitcase. "Freckles, we been hiking through this damn jungle for almost twenty-four hours and haven't seen nobody."

"That doesn't mean someone's not out there."

Without waiting for a response, she reached up into the overhead compartment above her. It was empty. She sighed, dropping her arm down to her side. She glanced at Sawyer, wondering how he could be so seemingly nonchalant about all of this. The bodies...the smell...the fear.

How could he not be afraid? She was fighting just to hold on, to keep the fear at bay, to forget about the last time she'd been here. But Sawyer seemed to take it almost in stride. She wished she had his calm.

But could it be a front, she wondered suddenly, watching as he shifted a body off of a suitcase in the aisle. His jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing until they were almost closed. He pulled several shirts and pairs of pants out of the suitcase and tossed them over a nearby seat.

Kate realized she was staring and immediately looked away. She didn't need to stare at him. She distracted herself by opening another overhead compartment and extracting a suitcase, helping with the grim task of sorting the belongings of the dead.

She was placing three bottles of water into a backpack some time later when a spark caught her eye. She looked up, and in the dim light saw a woman's hand partially covered by a light blanket. Her own hand shaking, she lifted the blanket to reveal a sparkling diamond engagement ring. Reluctantly, she lifted her head, and looked into the face of a woman who would never see her wedding day. She'd been young, somewhere in her twenties, with long brown hair.

Kate sat down with a thud, squeezing her eyes shut and leaning back against a seat across the aisle. She clutched her knees and dropped her head down, every breath she took sucking more of the foul air into her lungs.

A short time later something soft hit her leg and fell to the ground. Almost afraid, she opened her eyes and looked down to find not something threatening, but an ordinary bandanna crumpled at her feet. She looked over at Sawyer, but he had already gone back to his task as if nothing had happened. She looked at him for a minute more, then picked up the bandanna and tied it around her face, blocking out the worst of the smell.

She shook her head, absurdly grateful for the gift, and went back to work.

* * *

When he was sure she wasn't looking, Sawyer looked up at Kate. When she'd fallen to the floor moments ago, he'd looked from her into the face of a woman who could have been her twin. It was more than a little spooky. He'd tossed her the bandanna not out of some sappy sentimentality, but simply because if the smell was affecting him, it was sure to be affecting her.

He gritted his teeth and continued his search. Three days in the sweltering jungle had not been kind to the bodies left behind in the wreckage. Any idiot who'd ever watched a cop show knew what happened to a body that was left out to rot. And that was saying nothing of the effect having a couple dozen bodies confined in a closed space where the temperature bordered on unbearable.

He batted at flies as he ripped apart an old T-shirt and tied the remnants around his face. Damned if he was going to take the smell while she wasn't.

Not that she wasn't suffering. Even in the dim light from the flashlight he could see her shaking. This vulnerability she was showing surprised him. He didn't suppose she let herself be weak very often, and never in front of anyone else. That was fine with him. He wasn't a comforter. He wasn't the type to offer hugs and flowery words.

If they were back at the beach, he'd bet his ass the doctor would comfort her. That's who he was, Sawyer thought with a shake of his head; the protector, the hero. Well, he could kiss Sawyer's ass. Being a hero wasn't everything. It wouldn't save him in the end.

By the time they were done searching everything but the cockpit itself, Kate had calmed down. She'd worked resolutely, searching and sorting everything they could find. They'd decided to leave the clothes and shoes behind; they just couldn't carry the weight on their own. They had found a few more bottles of water and a stash of peanuts and crackers. Too bad they were both too nauseous to eat anything.

"We need to check the cockpit," he said.

She looked from him to the cockpit behind him and shook her head. "There's nothing in there."

"Freckles, you weren't looking for supplies when you were here the first time. You were only looking for the transceiver."

"Well, if you want to search it so bad, go ahead. I'll wait outside."

Sawyer watched as she grabbed the backpack she'd loaded supplies into and slung it over her shoulder. She glanced at him, then turned and made her way out of the wreckage. The flashlight beam followed her as she climbed down out of the mangled plane.

He went into the cockpit, instantly taking note of the shattered glass and bloodstains. Maybe they weren't all so crazy, he thought, though he had no idea what could have caused that damage. Something big.

He found a small first aid kit behind the pilot's seat and bent down to pick it up.

"Sawyer!"

Kate's voice filtered up to him. He whirled around, aiming the flashlight back through the plane. But the voice had come from outside the plane. He rushed out of the cockpit, snagging his own backpack on the way, and stumbled his way down the aisle, past the bodies, and out of the wreckage.

Kate stood in the clearing, standing ramrod stiff, her hands clenched into fists. He looked past her to the duffel bag she'd brought with her from the first piece of wreckage. It had been dumped, its contents strewn across the ground.

"A rabbit didn't do that," she said.

That much was obvious, Sawyer thought, shining the flashlight across the clearing and back and forth through the trees. A rabbit hadn't turned the bag upside down and spread the contents around. A human had done this, searching for something.

"What did you have in that bag?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Some clothes, a bottle of water, a couple of books, some teenager's journal. Nothing that anyone but the owner would care about, and whoever owned this stuff is dead."

He folded his arms and contemplated that while she gathered everything up and put it back in the bag. She knelt down to zip it up and looked into the forest beyond him. Her fingers stilled on the zipper and her eyes went wide. She slowly rose to her feet and opened her mouth.

Then she screamed.


	8. The Long Road Home

Chapter Eight: The Long Road Home

Kate screamed as the dark form of a man rushed toward them. He barreled into Sawyer, and the two men went down grappling.

Sawyer tossed his backpack away and blocked the man's fist an instant before it hit his jaw. He countered with a punch of his own, wincing as his knuckles connected with the man's temple. The man howled with rage as he rolled onto his back and Sawyer took full advantage. He came to his hands and knees and punched the attacker in the jaw. The man's head fell back and he lay still, his breathing labored, his eyes closed.

Sawyer struggled to his feet, his breath sawing in and out of his lungs. "Damn it," he muttered.

"Who is he?" Kate asked.

"My uncle Larry," Sawyer said. "How in the hell do I know?"

He turned back to the man just as a rock glanced off his forehead. He fell back, knocking Kate over, and then the man was on him again. He viced an arm around Sawyer's throat, cutting off his breath.

Sawyer was bigger, but the man's grip was like iron. Sawyer reached up and grabbed a handful of the man's hair and yanked. His grip on Sawyer's neck slackened, but didn't break.

"Get the hell out of here, Freckles!" he shouted.

"I'm not leaving you here."

"I can take care of myself," he said, surging back and finally breaking the man's grip.

"Yeah, you're doing a really good job so far," she said as the man charged Sawyer again and the two men fell to the ground and rolled around in the dirt. Sawyer landed another blow to the man's jaw, but he didn't stop. They rolled back and forth, landing and blocking blows, jockying for position.

The man used a sudden surge of strength to roll on top and cocked his fist back, but suddenly he was gone. Sawyer heard a loud thunk, and the man fell to the ground, out cold.

Breathing hard, Sawyer looked up to see Kate standing above him, a flashlight clutched in her hand. She extended her other hand and he took it, pulling himself to his feet.

As soon as he was on his feet, Kate turned away and bent down to her duffel bag. Sawyer looked down at her in time to see her discretely wipe the edge of the flashlight against the grass. The man's blood? He turned, but the man was face down. No way to tell if Kate's blow had broken or simply bruised the skin unless they rolled him over, and Sawyer didn't much feel like it. He just wanted to get the hell out of there.

He opened his mouth to suggest that, but Kate was already two steps ahead of him. She'd put everything back in her duffel bag and slung the strap over her shoulder. "Let's get out of here," she said, picking up her backpack from the cockpit and leaving the clearing.

A loud clap of thunder shook the air around them. Sawyer looked up into the sky as the first fat drops of rain fell to the ground. Just great, he thought. They finally get dried out from the last damn storm, and another one rolls in. He'd been so absorbed in what he'd been doing he hadn't even noticed clouds creeping across the sky.

Not that they had any choice but to hike through the jungle in the rain. Again. They sure as hell weren't going to use the cockpit for shelter.

He picked up his own bags and followed Kate into the trees. He glanced back at the man in the grass, but he hadn't moved. It was impossible to tell if he was alive or dead. But had Kate's blow really been hard enough to kill him? It would be easier for both of them if they never had to deal with him again, but he hoped for her sake that it hadn't killed him. She shouldn't have to have that weight on her shoulders.

He didn't stop to think about why he cared.

Of course, she might already have that kind of weight on her shoulders. He still didn't know what she'd done to warrant that marshal's attention. For all he knew, it could have been murder. Never mind that she didn't look the type to kill in cold blood. He knew all too well that looks could be deceiving.

* * *

Kate marched through the trees, fine tremors of exhaustion starting to run through her limbs. She needed water, needed food, but the very thought of eating or drinking made her stomach turn. The cockpit...the bodies...the smell...the attacker.

She didn't want to think of him. He'd come charging out of the darkness, eyes flashing in the diffuse light of the clearing. He'd fought with Sawyer, throwing punches and rocks for reasons only he knew. Her instincts had taken over and, seeing Sawyer in danger, she'd gripped the flashlight in her fist and swung.

She hadn't realized what she was doing until it was done. Then she'd found herself in a daze, gathering her things and leaving the clearing without any real emotions coming through. But they were coming back now, despite her best efforts to stop them. She kept picturing Sawyer going down to the ground, kept seeing the man's fist connecting with his face, kept seeing the rock. Sawyer had been bigger than the other man, but the other man had had surprise on his side.

"You all right, Freckles?" he asked sometime later.

"I'm fine," she said, turning back to look at him. She frowned. "You're bleeding."

"Just a scratch," he said, touching his fingers to his forehead.

"That's more than just a scratch," she said, dropping her bags and pawing through them for something to clean up the blood that was slowly trickling down his forehead. The rock the man had thrown at him had opened up a small gash on his forehead.

"You turning into Florence Nightingale suddenly?" Sawyer asked.

"Maybe I just don't want to look at all that blood all night," she murmured. She repeated it to herself as she searched through the duffel bag, rain drizzling down through the trees. She just didn't want to look at the blood; she wasn't offering her help because she was starting to care for him. Certainly not. He was completely wrong for her, which was beside the point since she wasn't looking for a relationship, with him or anyone else.

"This might work," Sawyer said, and she turned to see him holding a small first aid kit and grinning at her.

She narrowed her eyes. "You had that the whole time and you didn't say anything?"

"Maybe I just like watching you fret over me, Sweetheart."

"I don't give a damn about you," she insisted, snatching the kit out of his hands. She opened it and extracted a roll of gauze and a small tube of dermabond.

She dropped the kit on top of her duffel bag and used the gauze to wipe away the blood. Sawyer leaned his head down and let her clean the wound. She glanced up at him, but the quiet intensity in his eyes made her immediately look away. She tried to concentrate on what she was doing, but her hands were starting to shake, and it had nothing to do with hunger or the chill of the rain.

"Would you stop looking at me like that?" she asked finally, exasperation clear in her voice.

"How am I looking at you?" he asked, his tone all-too-innocent.

She blew out a breath and used the dermabond to glue the sides of the cut together. When she was done, she used the gauze to wipe away the last traces of blood.

She turned back to her bag, but Sawyer caught her arm before she could bend all the way down to place the first aid kit inside. She stood back up, slowly turning her head and meeting his gaze. He didn't say anything. He merely stared at her, shaking his head before jerking her up against him and crushing his lips to hers. One of his hands tangled in her hair, the other pressed against the small of her back. His tongue pushed past nonexistent barriers and tangled with hers.

Her hands, which had flown up to his shoulders in shock, relaxed and slid into his hair. She pressed herself against the length of his body, feeling the heat radiating through his rain-cooled skin. One of her hands slid down and found the solid flesh beneath his T-shirt.

Rain poured down around them but did nothing to dissipate the heat they were generating. They pressed closer to each other, touching from head to toe. Kate dug her fingernails into his flesh and gasped when his fingers connected with the swell of her breast.

A clap of thunder shook the air and Kate jumped back, out of breath and in shock. She wrapped her arms around her body to ward off a sudden chill.

Sawyer seemed at an equal loss of words, a rarity she was sure. His eyes met hers, and the banked fire she saw there sent a shiver straight through her. This wasn't supposed to happen, she thought frantically. She wasn't supposed to feel anything for him. She wasn't supposed to be worrying that she was slowly becoming addicted to not only his touch, his kiss, but to his rebellious nature and his smartass comments and nicknames.

She was, quite simply, becoming addicted to Sawyer.

"What do you say we get the hell out of here, Freckles?" he asked.

She nodded, bending down to slide the first aid kit into her duffel bag and sling the strap over her shoulder. Maybe that was the solution. Pretend the kiss hadn't happened, that she hadn't been ready to tear their clothes off in the middle of the damn storm. Maybe denial wasn't her healthiest option, but it was a hell of a lot easier than examining her attraction to Sawyer.

They grabbed their bags and headed through the trees, taking the route she remembered from her first trip to the cockpit. Had it really only been three days ago? It felt like they'd been on the island for weeks.

The longer they marched through the trees, the harder Kate began shaking, and it wasn't just the cold. Her body was rebelling against the lack of food or water and the overload of stress. The peanuts from earlier had long since burned away. She pulled out another bag and forced them down as she walked, ignoring the way her stomach heaved.

Her head swam, and she did her best to remain steady on her feet. She wondered what she was going to tell everyone when they got back to the beach. They were sure to be curious about what had happened. But she sure as hell didn't want to tell them the truth, that she'd run into the jungle during a nightmare about the monster and the marshal. If she told them that, they would know that she'd been the marshal's prisoner.

She could only hope that Sawyer would keep his knowledge to himself.

She stumbled, reaching out to catch herself on a nearby tree. Her muscles shook. She leaned back against the tree trunk and closed her eyes. She wasn't sure how much further they had to go, but she didn't feel like she could move another step. She was going numb, from fear and cold and fatigue. This was different than all the other times she'd run from something. Before, she'd had access to food. She'd been able to rest before taking off again. But now she was at the end of her energy reserves.

"Gotta keep moving, Freckles," Sawyer said.

"I don't think I can," she said, not bothering to open her eyes.

She started to sink down to the ground, but Sawyer caught her. He took her arm and draped it around his neck. He took her backpack and put the strap around his shoulder. "Let's get the hell back to the beach," he said.

He started walking again, supporting her weight. She gripped his shoulder, forcing her muscles to move, forcing herself to take one step, then another. They had to be close, she thought. They'd been walking for what felt like an eternity. The beach couldn't be much further.

Blackness faded the edges of her vision and she felt a spurt of panic. She couldn't faint. She couldn't let Sawyer see her that vulnerable, couldn't leave herself that helpless. She needed to ignore the shaking of her muscles, ignore the pounding of her head and stay awake. When they got to the beach, she could stop and eat something. When they got to the beach, she could rest.

It was the last thing she thought before she passed out.


	9. Recovery

Chapter Nine: Recovery

Rain poured down on the beach, soaking everyone who didn't have either the luck or sense to find cover. People used whatever they could find, from pieces of the wreckage to empty suitcases. Some huddled together for warmth, others fought to keep the signal fire from dying.

Jack, Charlie, Claire, Sayid, and Hurley all crowded into the tent, now that the marshal's body had been moved to the fuselage. Jack and Sayid had done it last night, under cover of darkness so as to upset as few people as possible.

So far, nobody had asked about the marshal. Jack hoped it was a sense of out of sight, out of mind. But that theory wasn't holding true for their two missing castaways. The disappearance of Kate and Sawyer had rattled people just as they were beginning to accept the reality of their situation.

He'd thought about telling people the two had gone into the jungle looking for supplies, but they'd been seen running into the trees during last night's storm. The rumors had spread too quickly for him to contain them, so now what was left was damage control. All he could do was try to keep the panic to a minimum.

"Do you think they're all right?" Claire asked.

Jack and Charlie exchanged a quick glance. Aside from Kate, they were the only two who knew just what the monster could do. And given that they'd heard it in the trees about the same time Kate and Sawyer had been seen running into the jungle...

"I'm sure they're fine," Charlie said. "They probably found some other shelter for the night or something."

"Do you think that thing in the trees...?" she trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

"They'll be all right, love. Don't you worry."

"You guys didn't find any trace of them?" Hurley asked.

Jack shook his head wearily. "We can't search the entire island in a day. We'll go back out tomorrow."

"How long do you think they can survive without food or water?"

"A person can survive about a week without water."

"What about food? If they don't eat anything, won't they be like...too weak to hike back here?"

"I don't know, Hurley," Jack said with a sigh. "We'll look again—"

He broke off mid-sentence as someone's shouting pierced the drone of the rain and carried into the tent. He came to his feet, glancing back at Sayid as he exited the tent.

He looked around, trying to see through the rain and the dark. He raised his hand to shield his face, squinting his eyes. He saw someone wave at him, and his gaze followed their outstretched arm in the direction of the tree line. And then he saw them. Sawyer, staggering under the weight of several bags, and Kate lying limp in his arms.

* * *

"Hey! A little help would be nice," Sawyer called out over the rain, then watched as none other than Ali and the hero emerged from the tent and ran toward him.

He pressed his lips together. He didn't have any claim on Kate, but damned if he wanted to hand her over to the doctor. Anyone but him. He would never admit to anyone that he hated the thought that Jack would be the first person she saw when she woke up.

She'd scared the shit out of him when she'd passed out in the jungle. He'd dropped his bags and leapt forward, barely catching her before she hit the ground. He hadn't been able to wake her back up, but he had felt the warmth of her breath against his skin.

He'd thought about stopping and staying there until she came around but didn't want to be caught unprepared if whatever had killed the pilot came back, or if it turned out their attacker wasn't dead. If they made if back to the beach, at least they'd be able to see any threats that came at them.

"What happened?" Jack asked as he came to a stop in front of them. "What the hell did you do?"

Sawyer's face closed down, his eyes flashing dangerously. "I saved her life, Jackass. That's what I did."

Jack reached out, and Sawyer reluctantly handed Kate over. He hitched the bags up on his shoulders and followed him, ignoring the looks he got as people saw him and realized who he was. Damn them all, he thought. They could think whatever they wanted. He didn't owe them explanations or justifications for what had happened.

Jack carried Kate into the tent. "Everybody watch out," he said.

Sawyer watched as everyone got up and backed out of the way. He dropped the bags at his feet, pretending he didn't know they were casting covert glances in his direction. He kept his attention focused on Kate. He thought he saw her eyelids flutter as Jack knelt down next to her and took her pulse, but he wasn't sure.

"Let's give her some privacy, guys," Jack said.

Charlie, Claire, Sayid and Hurley all left the tent, but Sawyer stayed right where he was. Jack looked up at him, obviously about to suggest that he leave as well. He folded his arms across his chest and stared back silently, until Jack gave up with a shake of his head and turned back to Kate.

"So, are you going to tell me what happened, or what?" Jack asked.

"You think you know so much already, why don't you guess?"

Jack shook his head, laughing wearily and without humor. "You can't ever give a straight answer, can you? You have to play games instead."

"Well, Doc, you'd know about playing games, wouldn't you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jack asked, glaring at him.

Sawyer smirked. "You think you know me so well. You wanna accuse me of doing something to her, but you don't have the balls to come right out and say it. You're a coward."

"I'm a coward?" Jack asked, coming to his feet and advancing on Sawyer. "You're letting her lie there in danger because you need your ego stroked."

A cloud of anger flooded into Sawyer's eyes. His fists clenched, itching to connect with that self-superior face. "You think this is about my ego?" he ground out, wondering what the doc would think if he knew that not only had Kate slept in his arms last night, but that she'd initiated their first kiss. And that the kiss hadn't been their last.

"Okay, if not ego, then what?"

They stood toe to toe, ready to do battle, until Kate's soft moan interrupted them. Both men whirled around, watching as her head turned to the side, her eyelids fluttering.

Jack knelt beside her and twisted the lid off a water bottle. "Kate, can you hear me?"

Her eyes blinked open and her lips moved, but they couldn't hear what she said.

"You're going to have to speak up," Jack murmured. "I can't hear you."

Sawyer arched a brow at Jack's choice of _I_ instead of _we_, but kept his eyes on Kate as she licked her lips and swallowed, then said, "Sawyer..."

"Right here, Freckles," he said as Jack turned and looked at him.

She closed her eyes. "What happened?"

"You passed out about a half hour ago. I got us back to the beach."

"I figured that part out," she said.

Sawyer chuckled, more relieved than he would ever say that she was awake and talking. "I had to carry you and all the damn bags myself. Couldn't have waited to pass out until we got here, could ya?"

"You carried me?"

"What did you think, I dragged you by your hair?"

She laughed weakly. "Now that you mention it, my head does hurt."

Sawyer shook his head and grinned as he reached into one of the bags. "You should eat something," he said, tossing her a bag of peanuts and a package of crackers.

"Thanks," she said, then watched as he picked up his share of the bags and walked out of the tent.

* * *

"That was...friendly," Jack said, holding out the bottle of water.

Kate accepted it with a soft smile of gratitude. "We spent the last twenty-four hours alone in the jungle. That's a lot of time to talk."

"You're friends now?" Jack asked, disbelief tinging his tone.

"I wouldn't go that far," she said, tearing open the package of crackers and popping one into her mouth. She wouldn't say she was friends with Sawyer. He drove her crazy. He made her question everything she thought she knew about herself. Not to mention he was the best kisser she'd ever met. Just thinking about his touch warmed her from the inside out. But none of that meant they were friends.

"So, what happened out there?" Jack asked. "Sawyer wouldn't give me a straight answer."

Kate struggled to sit up, waving away his offer of a helping hand. "I had a nightmare last night and I...ran into the jungle. Sawyer...saw me and followed me."

"Where did all this stuff come from?" he asked, gesturing to the crackers, then over at the bags Sawyer had left.

"We found some more of the wreckage," she said with a shrug. "Then we...ended up back at the cockpit."

"You went back there?" Jack asked, clearly shocked.

"Not on purpose. We were trying to find our way back to the beach, and that's where we ended up."

Jack watched her for several moments, waiting for her to say more, but she kept herself busy eating the crackers and peanuts. There were things she just didn't want him or anyone else to know.

She thought about telling him about their mysterious attacker. If it turned out the man was still alive, then the others should know that they may be in danger. But if she told him, and it turned out the man was dead, that was just going to raise his suspicions of her even higher. First, she'd refused to tell him the truth about her involvement with the marshal, then she'd encouraged him to end the man's suffering. If he found out that she'd killed the attacker, she didn't want to think about what he might do.

And there was no way in hell she was telling him about kissing Sawyer.

"What aren't you telling me?" Jack asked finally.

"What do you mean?" she murmured.

"Come on, Kate. I'm not stupid. I can see that you're hiding something."

She met his gaze and held it, saw the sincere concern and curiosity in his eyes, but she didn't say anything. Couldn't reveal her secrets. Because more than his concern, more than his curiosity, she also saw a hint of suspicion. Maybe it came from the marshal, maybe it came from her contact with Sawyer. But whatever the source, it made her angry, and more tired than she'd thought possible.

"I'm going to go," she said, handing the water bottle back to him as she struggled to her feet. She swayed a little, but she didn't fall down. She stalked over to her bags and picked them up.

"Where are you going?" Jack asked.

"Back to my place on the beach."

"Everything out there is soaked, Kate. You should stay here so you can dry out and get some rest."

"The rain stopped," she said. "I'll be fine."

He called out to her as she walked away from the tent, but she didn't respond. She stepped around everyone else and found the spot she'd picked out the night they'd crashed. She stood for a moment, looking around at everyone, then bent down and picked up the rest of her things. She didn't want to be around anyone else right now. She needed time alone to decompress, to digest everything that had happened during the last couple of days and decide what came next. None of that was going to happen with all of these people around.

She looked around, trying to spot Sawyer, but didn't know where he'd gone after he'd left the tent. Deciding that for the moment she didn't want to talk to him either, she shook her head and walked away.

She found a spot a hundred yards down the beach, close enough that she could still see everybody, but far enough away that they couldn't really bother her. She dropped her bags and found some wood that had remained fairly dry. She built a fire with the lighter she'd never given back to Sawyer, then lay back with her head resting on the duffel bag she'd taken from the wreckage. She closed her eyes and let her mind drift.

Sawyer's image floated into her mind. She kept seeing the look on his face in the instant before he'd kissed her the second time. He'd tried to hide it, but she'd seen the heat, seen the need. She'd recognized it, because she'd felt the same way. Maybe it wasn't smart, but a part of her needed him, and she didn't know how to deny it any longer.

She wondered what would happen between them now that they were back at the beach. It was one thing to come together in the jungle, when nobody was around, but with a few dozen people as witnesses? Did she want to pretend that nothing had happened, or did she want to say damn the risks and push for a deeper connection? Did she even want to get to know him better, or was it just that she desperately wanted to feel connected to someone, anyone?

Sometime later her eyes flashed open. She slowly sat up, her eyes scanning the beach and the surrounding woods. She'd heard something, she was sure of it. Twigs snapping, or maybe brush crunching under a shoe. She dug out her flashlight and flicked it on, dragging the beam of light back and forth across the trees.

The light reflected back at her suddenly, caught by something just beyond the tree line. She blinked, rubbing her tired eyes, and edged closer to the trees. In the back of her mind she knew she was being stupid. She should call for help. She should get as far away from there as possible. But she moved closer, her heart pounding, her head swimming.

She reached the tree line, but couldn't see what had caught the light. Everything was dark, quiet, still. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, whatever ordinary was on this island.

A hand reached out and knocked her flashlight away, and before she could react, a figure emerged from the darkness and slammed her back against a nearby tree. She cried out as her head cracked against the tree trunk, but a hand covered her mouth, smothering the sound.

She felt something sharp sting the delicate skin of her neck, where her pulse beat out of control. "Where are they?" a gravelly voice demanded.

She squeezed her eyes shut. "I don't know what you're talking about," she whispered when he removed his hand.

The fist to her face stunned her. The solid weight of his knuckles slammed into her cheekbone, stealing her breath from her lungs. She would have fallen to the ground had the man not been standing so close. As is was, her legs turned to jelly, and she leaned her head back against the tree, wheezing and trying to catch her breath.

"Where are they?" he demanded again. "I know you have them."

"I don't have anything," she insisted as her breath slowly came back. She tensed her muscles, subtly shifting her body to the side. She felt something drip down her neck, and she wasn't sure whether it was sweat or blood. The knife—at least she thought it was a knife—was still pressed against her neck.

She did her best to ignore the knife. If she thought about it, she'd panic. And if she panicked, she died.

"What did you do with them?" he asked.

Without warning, she jerked her knee up between his legs, pushing the knife away with her hand. The man groaned, staggering until a second kick sent him to the ground.

Kate grabbed the knife and ran, her scream piercing the still night air. She stumbled, sand and debris digging into her palms as she fell. She scrambled back to her feet and ran for the camp, refusing to look back.

She no longer had to wonder if their attacker was dead or alive.


	10. Dead of Night

Chapter Ten: Dead of Night

Jack and Sayid were talking quietly in the tent when Kate screamed. She ran along the beach, past curious and frightened spectators, and toward them.

"Kate?" Jack asked as she stumbled to a stop in front of them. "What's going on?"

"A man attacked me," she said, trying to control the panic in her voice. She stepped past them and into the tent.

"What?" Jack asked, shock etched on his face.

She turned to face him, giving him a good look at her already bruised and swelling eye. He stepped up to her and gently probed the injury with his fingertips. She winced. "Are you all right?"

She nodded. "I moved my stuff down the beach," she said. "I wanted some privacy. I...heard something moving in the trees next to me, and then a man attacked me."

"Did you see his face?" Sayid asked.

She glanced up at him, then shook her head. "He wasn't anyone I recognize from the beach."

The two men exchanged a glance. "What did he want?" Jack asked.

She held his gaze for a moment then looked away, replaying the scene in her head. He'd lured her into the trees, she realized, and she'd fallen for it like a lemming. Then he'd knocked her flashlight away and held a knife to her throat, demanding the return of...something.

And then it hit her. "Oh, God," she murmured, stepping around Jack.

"What?"

"I need to talk to Sawyer," she said, hurrying out of the tent and looking around. Jack and Sayid came up behind her but she ignored them, finally spotting Sawyer off to the side, away from the main group of castaways.

She wove her way between everyone else to where Sawyer leaned back against his bags, his eyes closed, a cigarette between his lips. "I need to talk to you," she said.

He cracked his eyes open but otherwise didn't move. "Just couldn't stay away, could ya, Freckles?"

"I need to talk to you right now," she repeated, then stepped past him and walked away, knowing somehow he'd follow. If not his full interest, at least his curiosity would be peaked. She kept going until she was sure she was out of earshot, then turned and waited for him.

He ambled up to her, the cigarette still caught between his lips, apparently in no hurry to hear what she had to say. "Hope this is good," he said. "I was having a hell of a dream."

"Those pictures," she said, "the ones we found in the briefcase. Did you take them?"

He was quiet for a moment. "You asking if I killed that girl?" he asked, anger and a hint of disillusionment in his voice.

Kate closed her eyes, impatience dragging at her. "No, I'm not asking if you killed her. I'm asking if you took the pictures out of the briefcase and did something with them."

"I burned 'em after we got back," he said. "Didn't think something like that should be left sitting around."

"Great." She dropped her head down with a sigh.

What's the problem? You want to keep them for souvenirs or something?"

"No, I don't want to keep them. But the man who attacked you at the cockpit is the man who took those pictures. He's alive, and he wants the pictures back."

* * *

He noticed the blood first. She looked right at him, and in the moonlight that had emerged after the storm, he saw the blood that had trickled down her neck and stained the collar of her shirt. He looked at her face and saw the bruising around her eye. 

A deep sense of rage washed through him. He'd done a lot of wrong things in his life; more than he could count. He'd made more mistakes than most. But one thing he'd never done was lay hands on a woman. He'd been tempted, but he'd never touched a woman in anger. Not once.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, pacing away and dragging his hands through his hair. He took a deep drag off his cigarette, then dropped it into the sand and stomped it out. Why the hell hadn't he checked to make sure the attacker was dead? It wouldn't have taken more than a few seconds to check his pulse and see if he was breathing, and it could have saved this. Why hadn't he done it? Because he was too tired? Because he didn't want to make the effort? Well, Kate had paid the price for his laziness.

"He must have followed us back to the beach," she said.

"And he wanted those pictures?"

"He just kept saying, '_I want them back. I know you have them._'"

He looked down at her, involuntarily reaching out to brush the blood from her neck. She blinked at the contact, and he thought he saw the pulse at her throat beat a little faster. It was good to know he wasn't the only one who was affected when they touched.

But though she tried to hide it, he saw the vulnerability, and the fear, she tried to hide. She said she was fine, but she wasn't fine. Too bad he didn't know a damn thing about comforting her. Here she was putting on a front—something he knew about all too well—and he didn't know how to help her.

Well, there was one thing he could do. He could make damn sure this didn't happen again.

He stalked back to his bags and found a large flashlight. He tapped it against his palm, the heavy weight reassuring. He glanced at Kate, then started across the beach.

"What are you doing?" she called out from behind him. "Sawyer!"

He didn't answer her. He threaded his way between the other castaways, intent on his goal. That asshole wasn't going to hurt her again.

Kate chased after Sawyer, her heart in her throat. He was going after their attacker. At night, unarmed. "This is really stupid!" she shouted.

He murmured something that sounded like "Won't be the first time", but he didn't slow down.

She caught his arm and spun him around. "You can't just go running into the jungle in the middle of the night."

"Look who's talking, Sweetheart," he said. "Seems like that's exactly what you did last night."

"That was different."

"Yeah, it was different. This time there's a real threat."

* * *

Kate followed him down the beach, at a loss as to how she was supposed to stop him. He said this time it was different, and he was right. When the man had attacked Sawyer at the cockpit, he'd been unarmed. But somewhere between here and there he'd picked up a knife. He'd become twice as dangerous in a short amount of time, and Sawyer was charging headlong into a confrontation with him. 

"Don't do this," she said.

"Sounds like you're worried about me, Freckles," he said over his shoulder.

"You want me to say it?" she called out, planting her feet in the sand, her whole world shrinking to the two of them. There was no island, there were no other survivors. "I'm worried about you, all right? I don't want you to go up against this guy alone." She paused to take a breath, looking up into eyes that were luminous in the moonlight. "Are you happy now?"

"Go up against who?" a voice asked before Sawyer could respond.

The world came back to her slowly, and she closed her eyes when she felt someone behind her. She took a deep breath, then turned to see not only Jack, but Sayid and Hurley watching them. She pressed her lips together and took an unconscious step toward Sawyer when she registered the traces of suspicion in their eyes.

"Someone needs to tell us what's going on," Jack said. "If either of you knows more than you're saying..."

"You got an accusation, Doc, let's hear it," Sawyer said, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"Yeah, I've got—"

"Okay, enough," Kate interrupted. She turned to Jack. "We found a briefcase in the jungle. There were...pictures of a dead woman in it, and we didn't think something like that should be left lying around, so we burned them." She glanced up at Sawyer, wondering at how easily the distortion had slipped from her lips, wondering why she'd lied to protect Sawyer.

"We thought whoever had taken them was dead," she continued.

"The man who attacked you took the pictures," Sayid guessed.

She nodded. "He didn't mention the pictures specifically, but he kept saying 'I know you have them. I want them back.'"

"Dude, this is too much," Hurley said, throwing his hands in the air. "We've got freakin' murderers running around now?"

"Not for long," Sawyer said, then turned and walked down the beach, not stopping until he came to the spot where Kate had left her stuff. He shined the flashlight into the trees, looking for any sign of where the attacker might have gone.

Kate watched him for a moment before bending down and finding her own flashlight. She obviously wasn't going to convince him not to go after the attacker. But neither was she going to let him go alone.

"Freckles, what are you doing?" he asked when she came to stand beside him.

"What do you think I'm doing?"

"There ain't no way in hell you're coming with me."

"What are you going to do to stop me?" she asked.

"Whatever it takes. "You ain't going back in that jungle."

"He's right, Kate," Jack said from behind her. "You should stay on the beach. We can look for this guy."

"Thanks Doc, but I don't need your help," Sawyer said.

Kate glared from one man to the other. "This is as much my problem as yours," she said to Sawyer. "You're not going to stop me from going. You want to look for him on your own? That's fine. I'll look for him on my own, too."

Sawyer opened his mouth to respond, but he was interrupted. Not by Kate, Jack, or anyone else on the beach, but by the shaking and snapping of the trees, and the strange, distant wail of the monster.


	11. Risk

Chapter Eleven: Risk

Kate sucked in a sharp breath, backing up until she was shoulder-to-shoulder with Sawyer. Whatever was knocking down the trees was a ways back, but that didn't mean it didn't terrify her.

After her nightmare last night, she was having a hard time separating thoughts of the monster from thoughts of the marshal. Even though she knew he was dead, if she closed her eyes she almost believed it was him crashing through the trees. Coming for her.

She turned away and walked slowly down the beach. She was so tired. But she knew sleep wouldn't come with their attacker still out there. She reached up and fingered the tender skin around her eye. The man wasn't going to stop until he got what he wanted, but the pictures had been reduced to ashes. She knew that simply trying to explain that wasn't an option. She also knew that they couldn't just let a murderer walk around the island unchecked.

She stared out at the dark water of the ocean, wrapping her arms around her body. If they found the attacker, what exactly were they going to do with him? Take him back to the camp and keep him prisoner? They had the handcuffs—the ones that had so recently been locked around her wrists—but wouldn't keeping him at the camp panic people? So if not the beach, what then? Somewhere in the jungle?

And if they kept this man a prisoner, what was next? Would they start punishing others for supposed crimes? Who would decide what was a crime and what the appropriate punishment should be? What about crimes committed before the crash? If her secret broke beyond the small group that already knew, what would happen to her? They had no way of knowing what she'd done unless she told them—which she definitely wasn't going to do—but if they knew she'd been the marshal's prisoner would they insist that she be punished alongside her attacker?

She slipped her shoes off and let the cool ocean water wash over her feet. There was no guarantee that catching the attacker and bringing him back would keep them safe. He could escape. They'd have to watch him twenty-four hours a day, and even then she'd worry.

She closed her eyes. There was really only one way to ensure that the man who had murdered the woman in the pictures wasn't a threat to any of the castaways.

End his life.

Was it okay to kill someone, she wondered, as long as it was for the greater good? Should they ask everyone to take a vote on what they thought should be done, or should they just do what they had to do and deal with the consequences later?

She'd taken that route before. She'd done what she thought had to be done without consulting anyone, and she'd paid the price. Nobody had understood, and she'd ended up in jail, then on the run for all those endless months. But she couldn't run now. She was stuck on this island like everyone else, and she had a feeling that the threats were just now beginning to reveal themselves.

The wailing and thrashing in the jungle ended as suddenly as it had begun. She looked back towards the jungle and saw Sawyer striding across the beach toward her. She turned back to the water, still angry that he'd tried to take the big brother role with her. She didn't want him as her brother, and she didn't want anyone to tell her what to do.

"Why'd you run away?" he asked when he was standing next to her.

She didn't want to have that discussion with him, so instead of answering his question she said, "Maybe the monster ate him."

"'Scuse me?"

"The attacker. Maybe that's why the trees were shaking. Maybe that thing killed him."

"That's quite an imagination you got there, Freckles."

"I watched it happen to the pilot. Why not this guy?"

"Because nobody's that lucky."

She knew it was wishful thinking, but she just wanted this to be over with. She didn't want to think about having someone's life in her hands, and she didn't want Sawyer to have another death on his mind. He already had to contend with the botched mercy killing of the marshal. She didn't want him to have to deal with this too, especially on account of her.

"You're going to kill him, aren't you?" she asked.

She felt him looking down at her. "What other choice we got?"

"I don't know," she said finally. "I just don't know if I want to be part of a murder."

"It's not murder, Freckles. It's self-defense. And if you don't want to be a part of it, why are you insisting on coming?"

"Because I don't need to be protected, and I'm not going to let anyone _insist_ that I stay behind just because this guy attacked me."

"So this is about proving yourself?" Sawyer asked as he lit a cigarette.

"No, it's not. But tell me this. Say you find him and kill him. What then? What are you going to do with the body? Leave it out for the animals? Bury it? Burn it?"

"Why do you care about that?"

"Because if someone is out hiking in the jungle and finds a body that's obviously been murdered, I don't want to have to explain."

"So what's your solution?" he asked. "Let him run around and wait for him to kill someone else?"

She looked back at where Jack and Sayid stood near the tree line, then down the beach to where everyone else had camped. Finally she looked back up at him. He wasn't going to like her plan. If he didn't want her to go into the jungle to look for the man, he was going to hate this. "We need to bring him here," she said, "so we don't arouse suspicion. They need to know we didn't have any other choice but to kill him."

* * *

Sawyer took a drag off his cigarette, not liking the direction she was going. "So what, you want to bring him here and execute him in front of everybody?" he asked.

"Not exactly."

"Then what, Freckles? Spell it out for me."

"We don't need to _bring_ him here," she said. "We need him to come on his own. We need to _lure_ him."

"Lure him with what?"

"Bait. Me."

He dropped his cigarette as the words shot through him. The full extent of her plan became clear, and he felt almost dizzy from the wave of anger and adrenaline that rushed through him. "Are you out of your damn mind?" he shouted.

She looked around, then muttered, "Keep your voice down."

"This is the most damn fool plan I've ever heard," he ground out. "There's no way in hell you're going to _let_ him attack you again."

"If you'd calm down for a minute, you'd see that this is the only way this can work," she said.

"Like hell."

She blew out a frustrated sigh and leaned close to him. "There's no guarantee that you'll find him if you go looking for him. But he _will_ come back here again, and he'll keep coming either until he gets what he wants or until he's dead."

"And you're just going to sit back and wait for him to come after you?"

For the first time, he realized there was a hint of vulnerability in her eyes, and it shook him more than the fear caused by her plan. She had more bravado than she knew what to do with, but he realized that all of it didn't mean she wasn't scared. She was putting on a front, hiding her true self, and nothing could have connected her to him quicker or deeper.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, he was starting to feel something for her. You couldn't spend twenty-four hours glued to each other's side without feeling something. You couldn't kiss someone the way they'd kissed without being affected. Every other woman he'd been with, he'd purposely kept his distance, even in bed. If someone tried to break through his shields, he simply walked away. But here on this island, he couldn't just walk away, and Kate was breaking through his shields without even trying.

Which is what made it so damn hard to go along with this plan, even though he knew she was right. He could wander around the jungle for days and never find a sign of the attacker. But give him a reason to come back to the beach and he would. The problem with that was the thought of Kate sitting alone, waiting to be attacked turned his stomach. Sure, he'd be waiting, watching for the attacker to make his move, but what if he didn't get to her in time? What if the attacker did serious damage before he could stop him?

"Look, you don't have to like this," she said. "But unless you can come up with a better plan, this is all we have. We don't know how long we're going to be on this island. If we just go after him and kill him, we're going to be branded as murderers. I don't want that, and I'm betting you don't either. But if he comes here and is killed in a struggle after he tries to attack me, nobody is going to blame us for anything."

He stared at her for several long moments. There was fear in her eyes, along with determination, and a hint of something else he couldn't quite name. "Why do I get the feeling this isn't the first time you've hatched a plan like this?"

She flicked her eyes up at him, then turned away and looked back out over the water. She didn't answer his question.

"Why was that marshal after you, Freckles?" he asked quietly.

"It doesn't matter," she murmured desolately. "None of it matters."

But he knew it did matter, and he was suddenly determined that eventually, somehow, he would get her to admit to him what had happened to send her on the run.

"Are we going to do this, or what?" she asked resolutely, turning back to him and meeting his eyes with a shot of bravado he was helpless to resist. Not giving a damn that any number of people could be watching them, he pulled her close and dipped his head low.

She gripped his shirt in her fists and met him halfway.


	12. The Waiting Game

Chapter 12: The Waiting Game

Jack shone his flashlight into the trees as the monster stopped moving. It was getting old, really. He was tired of having to assuage everyone's fears whenever that thing started moving around in the trees.

For a brief moment he'd thought maybe Kate would help relieve some of the burden on his shoulders, but now...now he didn't know what to think. She was hiding things from him, she'd become somehow involved with Sawyer, and it appeared she'd been some kind of criminal before the crash.

He didn't like the way she was running to Sawyer. The man had an air of danger around him, and Jack didn't trust him for an instant. He would have thought Kate would be smarter than to trust him. But then again, what did he really know about _her_?

He turned and watched as Hurley came toward him. Sayid had left to stoke the signal fire, so he'd been standing alone for the last several minutes. He almost wished Hurley would keep going. There was very little chance to be alone on this island, especially when you were the one everyone came to for answers, and he really needed a break.

"So, Dude," Hurley said. "What are you going to do about that guy? Everyone's pretty scared."

"We'll go looking for him when it gets light," Jack said. "It's too dangerous in the dark."

"What if he back while everyone's asleep?"

Jack sighed. "He's not going to attack someone in the middle of the group."

"He attacked Kate."

"Look how far away she was from everyone else. No one could see him from there."

Hurley was quiet for a few moments. "So what's up with her and Sawyer? Why'd they run off together?"

Jack glanced at him, then down at where Kate's things still sat on the ground, not far from him. "Kate thought she saw something, and Sawyer went after her when he saw her run into the jungle."

"Sorry, Dude, but he just doesn't seem like the type to rescue anybody."

Jack didn't respond, though he'd been thinking the same thing. Sawyer had seemed totally wrapped up in himself and his own needs, but he'd gone after Kate. Not only that, but he could have left her in the jungle once she passed out. But he hadn't. Already weighted down by those bags—he really needed to find out what was in them—he'd taken on her weight and carried her back to the beach.

He glanced at Hurley, but the other man was looking down the beach.

"Guess we don't have to wonder what they were doing all that time they were alone," Hurley said, and Jack followed his gaze.

Kate and Sawyer stood together at the water's edge, hands clenched on each other, lips pressed together in what he'd be a fool to mistake for a first kiss. You didn't stand that close, you didn't touch that way if it was just a first kiss.

His heart tumbled over and back in his chest, his shoulders sagging under the heavy, foreign weight of betrayal. He swallowed around the lump in his throat, tasting the acrid, unwelcome taste of failure on his tongue. He looked away, unable to take the sight of them together.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed when he felt the presence behind him. He turned and saw not Hurley but Kate standing a few feet away. It seemed like only moments ago he'd been wishing to be alone, but now, after witnessing that kiss, he wished he was surrounded by the others.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

He fought to keep his expression neutral. "Fine," he said shortly.

She frowned slightly, opening her mouth as if to respond, but instead shook her head and looked toward the jungle. "You don't need to go after him," she said, and for a split second he thought she meant Sawyer. But she continued, "We're going to lure him here."

"Lure who? The attacker?"

She nodded. "He has to be stopped."

"I'm not saying I disagree," Jack murmured, reaching out to brush his thumb over the bruise on her cheek. When he realized what he was doing, he let his hand fall uselessly to his side. He didn't have a right to touch her. She didn't need him. She had Sawyer now. "But do you realize how dangerous that is?"

"Of course I do. But like I told Sawyer, you could search the jungle for days and not find him. But this will bring him to us."

"And you're just going to put yourself out there as the bait?"

"He attacked me once because he thinks I have those pictures. He'll do it again."

"And what if he seriously injures you before anyone can stop him?"

"It's a risk I have to take, Jack. What he did to the woman in those pictures...we can't wait around for him to do it to someone else."

"Did Sawyer come up with this plan?"

"Actually, I did. He doesn't like it any more than you do."

There was a long, uncomfortable silence between them. Jack looked down at her, not sure where they stood anymore. Everything he'd thought he knew about her had been called into question.

Her turned away from her and looked toward the trees. "So, you and Sawyer seem to have gotten pretty close," he said.

"What?"

"I don't think you'd kiss your dad like that."

He turned in time to see her face fall, the color leeching away. He felt a twinge of regret for being so blunt, but then again, he hadn't said anything that wasn't true. He'd seen them kiss, and the unwelcome image wasn't going away any time soon.

* * *

"You saw us," Kate said dumbly.

"You weren't exactly hiding."

Kate looked down at the ground, her heart racing, her mind spinning. When she'd gotten involved with Sawyer—however involved a few kisses and some jumbled-up feelings made her—she hadn't thought far enough ahead to know how to react when the others found out. When Jack found out. She'd been caught up in the passion, in the intoxicating emotions that swept over her whenever she was close to him. She hadn't taken the time to decide how and when to bring it all out in the open.

But it was too late for strategizing now. Jack knew, and evidently wasn't too happy about it. She wondered how many of the others knew.

"It's just something that happened," she said. "I didn't plan it, I didn't expect it."

"But you didn't try to stop it, either."

She looked at him through slightly narrowed eyes, probably feeling more defensive than she had a reason to. "Are you saying I should have?" she asked.

"I just don't get it," Jack said. "He's arrogant, he's rude, he's—"

"He's not what everyone thinks he is. He saved my life," she said quietly, decisively. "Twice. When I ran into the jungle last night I didn't know what was going on. If he hadn't seen me go in, then stopped me, I don't know what would have happened. Then after hiking through the jungle for almost twenty-four hours, he carried me back to the beach."

"So you kissed him out of gratitude?"

Her face closed down, and she felt almost as if she'd been kicked in the stomach. "Is that what you think of me?" she asked coldly. "That I'll just make out with anyone who offers me a helping hand? You think that's how I show my gratitude?"

"What do you really know about him?" Jack asked. "Did he spill all of his secrets while you were in the jungle together?"

"No, he didn't. And I didn't spill mine, either."

"So in other words, you know nothing about him, but you decided to kiss him anyway."

"You can be mad at me if you want, Jack, but I don't need you to make me feel guilty for what happened. We're all trying to find a way to survive here, and what happens here wouldn't necessarily happen in the real world."

He opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off. "I don't want to fight with you, Jack. I'm exhausted, and I just want to get this all over with."

"We can go after him, Kate. We'll find him eventually. You don't have to do this."

"Yeah, I do," she said, then picked up her bags and walked down the beach before he could respond.

She made her way past the other survivors, offering bland reassurances to the few who asked if she was okay. She paused at the edge of the camp, then turned back and took a few minutes to explain the situation to Sayid. He was worried about the danger to her, just as Sawyer and Jack had been, but he somehow understood her need to take action. He warned her to be careful, and assured her he would keep a close watch, but he didn't try to convince her the plan was a bad idea.

She was grateful for once that she didn't have to argue about it, and she was even more grateful that she hadn't had to defend her kiss to Sayid. She didn't regret kissing Sawyer, and she was already tired of people making her feel defensive about it. She'd seen the disappointment in Jack's eyes as he revealed his knowledge, and it ate at her. She didn't want him to hate her. She wanted him to respect her, to see her as an equal. But would he do that now that he knew she was involved with Sawyer?

She didn't regret getting involved with him. Sure, they probably had no long-term chance, and she'd probably end up with her heart shattered like the sand, but it wasn't anything she hadn't dealt with before. And here on the island, even more so than her old life, she felt isolated and alone. Just because she was stuck here didn't mean she'd stopped running from her secrets, running from her past. The difference was, here she had nowhere to run.

But Sawyer made her feel alive. He made her heart pound and her skin tingle. He made her forget for a few moments that she was one of four dozen people in a life or death struggle. He made her forget what she'd done and what she'd been accused of. He made her want to stop running, and she hadn't stopped running in a long, long time.

She dropped her bags down at an isolated spot on the beach, around a slight bend. She could still see the edge of the camp, see the flickering flames of the signal fire and the dozen smaller fires that burned across the beach. But she was protected from the curious gazes of the survivors, the ones that would make her too nervous and jumpy to carry out the plan.

She didn't need any help being jumpy. Every swish of the water, every rustle of the leaves made her heart lurch. She wondered if he was out there somewhere, watching her. Waiting to strike. She wondered how long it would take before he tried again. She didn't doubt for a minute that he'd come back; the question was, when would it happen?

She licked her lips, glancing toward the trees. Sawyer was out there somewhere. When they'd broken apart after the kiss, they'd finalized their plan. She would find a spot on the opposite side of the beach, away from the camp, but not so far as to be obvious. They wanted the attacker to think she was seeking privacy and solace, not baiting a trap. If she went too far away from the others, he could get suspicious. But if she went only a short distance, still within shouting distance but with a modicum of privacy, that should seem natural.

At least she thought so. She would give anything right now for some real privacy, not just the illusion. She felt naked, exposed and vulnerable. Her eye throbbed dully, and her neck stung whenever she turned her head. She didn't like being a victim, not one bit.

The second part of their plan had included Sawyer finding a safe spot to observe her from, to watch and wait for the attacker to make his move. He'd assured her he could keep himself hidden, then he'd laughed when she warned him not to light any cigarettes and give himself away. He'd flashed that bad-boy grin and told her he'd try to control himself.

She figured now that Sayid would become a part of the plan, that he too would find himself a place to hide and watch out for her. She was glad; she wasn't going to complain about an extra pair of hands, someone else who knew the story and was ready and willing to help them stop this guy before he hurt anyone else. She wondered if Jack would help, or if he was too angry with her. Somehow, she couldn't see him not doing something to help. Regardless of his anger toward her or Sawyer, he knew the attacker was dangerous and would help if for no other reason than to keep everyone safe from him.

She gathered up a pile of driftwood and built a small fire. She held her hands to it, rubbing warmth into her arms. The days were sweltering but the nights here turned fairly cool, and she felt fine tremors running over her body. Part of it was nerves; part, but not all.

She sat down in the sand and pulled out a packet of peanuts. She popped them into her mouth one by one, staring into the fire, her mind drifting. Lead weights dragged her eyelids down, but every time she closed her eyes, the tiniest noise shot them open again. The call of an insect, a rabbit snapping a fallen twig in the jungle, it didn't matter. She was desperate for sleep, but it wouldn't come. So instead of sleeping, she stared at the fire and waited.

* * *

Sawyer sat in a thick cradle of tree branches about a dozen yards down the beach from where Kate had made her camp. He'd wanted to be close enough that when the attacker showed up, he'd be able to get to Kate before it was too late, but not so close that he would be spotted. It was a tricky proposition, because he had no idea what direction the attacker would come at her from.

It would take him some time to circle around the camp and find her again. He was probably off somewhere licking his wounds, letting his anger build. The more time that went by, the more angry he would get. Sawyer shook his head, part of him hoping the guy would simply disappear or die in some accident so Kate didn't have to risk herself. But the other part of him knew that wasn't going to happen, so he hoped the guy would come quick. He wanted this over with.

He reached toward his pocket for his cigarettes, then drew his hand back with a twist of his lips. Kate had warned him not to smoke while he was on watch. He knew she was right, but for some reason it had struck him as funny. Maybe it was the thought of her trying to protect someone like him, or maybe he was just too damn tired. He certainly wasn't going to admit that he liked knowing he had her in his corner.

She'd gone to talk to Jack after they separated. Had to tell the hero what was going on, she'd explained, though she hadn't called him that. Sawyer had nodded and walked away, though an ugly tendril of jealousy had curled in his belly. She may be kissing him at the moment, but he knew she was drawn to Jack, and a part of him he would never acknowledge was worried she would choose the doc instead.

He wondered if she'd tell the doc about the kiss. He sneered, a dark part of him wanting to ravage her in front of the other man. The doc may be the hero, he may be the leader, but at least he wouldn't have the girl.

He looked down the beach and watched her stare into the fire. Twenty-four hours ago he'd been sitting with her next to a fire like that one, telling her that he was glad she'd taken the gun away from him. He shook his head, wondering at how much could change in such a short time. A world already tossed upside down had been turned around yet again. He'd attempted to kill a man but failed, and he was preparing to do the same thing again. The first time it had been to end a man's suffering. This time it was to prevent future suffering that was sure to occur, to Kate or someone else. Both causes were just, but that didn't mean he liked it one bit. The thought of more blood on his hands left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he knew there was no choice.

Because whenever he closed his eyes, he saw those pictures, saw the woman that had been so savagely beaten. Only now it wasn't her face he saw in them. It was Kate's. And the thought of her lying dead and used up like that sent black rage through him. He hardly knew her, had shared only a few kisses with her, but damned if he was going to let anyone hurt her. He was nobody's idea of a hero, but he'd risk everything in him to keep her safe.


	13. Calm Before the Storm

Author's Note: Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed so far. And to bloodredcherry, I agree that Sayid would not be so quick to accept this whole situation. But since I am focusing on Kate and Sawyer, with a little Jack thrown in for some triangle angstiness, I didn't think that conversation quite fit. But I wrote it anyway, and if you want to read it you can go to my website (the address is on my profile page). Just click on the Writing button and you'll find it in the Lost Fanfiction section. Now enjoy the new chapter everybody!

Chapter 13: Calm Before the Storm

Kate's eyes blinked open, and immediately slammed shut again. Her first thought was of pain. She hurt from her head down to the dull throb in her ankle that hadn't completely gone away.

For a moment she felt panic-stricken. What the hell was going on? The attacker...the plan. Had she missed something? The last thing she remembered was sitting next to her fire, wondering when the attacker was going to strike again. She'd felt Sawyer's eyes on her and wondered who else might be watching her.

She opened her eyes again and realized she hadn't missed anything. It was morning. The attacker hadn't come. The plan had failed.

She sat up with a groan and tried to rub the soreness out of her shoulders. She tried not to think of what her eye must look like this morning after having had several hours to darken and swell.

"So, how was your night?"

Her lips twisted, knowing the sour voice could only belong to one man.

Sawyer sauntered across the sand, his lazy gait unnervingly sexy. Maybe it was sleep deprivation, she thought, or maybe she was simply losing her mind.

"Actually, my back hurts," she said.

"Sweetheart," he said, a cigarette caught between his lips, "there ain't no way in hell you hurt more than I do. I spent the night in a damn tree."

She reached up and fingered the tender skin around her eye. "Are we going to compare injuries and pain now?"

He was quiet for a moment while he whipped out his lighter and lit the cigarette. "Still hurt?" he asked gruffly.

"Only when I touch it."

"Then what the hell are you doing?"

She dropped her hand, fighting the smile that tugged at her lips. She glanced up at him. "How bad is it?"

"Well, I wouldn't be entering any pageants if I were you."

She laughed. "I'm not really a pageant sort of girl."

"No? What sort of girl are you?"

She didn't answer. It was too early in the morning to think about that. She wasn't ready to get into her past, even with the way she was beginning to feel about Sawyer. She couldn't remember the last time she'd talked openly about her past with anyone.

She turned and looked down the beach to where the others were just beginning to wake up. "What are we supposed to tell them now?" she asked.

"How the hell do I know?"

"We have to tell them something. By now everyone knows about the attacker. They're going to want to know what we're going to do about him."

"Then call a meeting and explain your grand plan to them. Or better yet, let the hero deal with them all."

She frowned, bending down to pick up a water bottle. "What's the matter with you?" she asked. "Why are you being such an ass?"

"Freckles, you should've learned by now that's who I am."

She didn't answer him. She knew there was more to him than what he was showing her now. She knew, because she'd seen it. Apparently at the moment though he was content to be a prickly, unapproachable jackass. She hoped the mood blew over soon, because she was already feeling close to the edge without him turning against her. If she was going to make it through another night of waiting for the attacker to come after her, she needed to know he was backing her up.

* * *

Sawyer walked down the beach, ignoring everyone as he passed the camp. Not that many people were eager to talk to him. And that was fine with him. He wasn't in a social mood. 

He walked around a slight bend, past the spot where Kate had been attacked last night, and his mood worsened. Things were going to change in the daylight. People knew that he and Kate had spend the past day alone together. And even if they knew that she'd been attacked by someone else, once they got a good look at her eye in the light of day, they were going to look at him and wonder if he'd done something to her. Logic wouldn't matter, and all the denials in the world wouldn't change a damn thing. People would make their assumptions about him, and that would be that.

Normally he didn't give half a damn what people thought of him. Hell, half the time he intentionally pushed them away. But there was nowhere to run on this godforsaken island, and if he had to deal with everyone's suspicion and outright hostility day after day, he was going to lose it and do something to prove them all right.

He stripped down and dove into the ocean, washing away all the grime that had stuck to him during the last couple of days. He wished everything else would wash away as easily as the dirt that clung to his skin. Like the images of the bodies in the jungle that were burned into his mind. Like the attacker. And like his feelings for Kate.

It would be so much easier if he didn't feel anything for her. It complicated his life, and he didn't have room for any more complications. Because not only did he want to kiss her again—not to mention put to good use those condoms he'd found in the wreckage—but he wanted to protect her from the attacker. He wanted to find a way to stop him before Kate put herself in the line of fire again. Maybe that's what he'd do today. Instead of sitting around on the beach, contemplating the mess of his life both before and after the crash, maybe he'd go looking for that asshole.

And if he was lucky, he'd find him and stop him before nightfall.

It went without saying that Kate would want to go with him. He'd have to find a way to leave without her. Because taking her with him would defeat the whole purpose. She was safer on the beach, surrounded by everyone else, and if he was alone with her in the jungle again, he wasn't sure he could keep his hands off her. He could feel his grip on his self-control slipping a little further away. He wanted to concentrate on finding the attacker, not on wondering what Kate looked like without her clothes on.

A hazy picture floated through his mind. The two of them in the jungle, Kate pressed back against a tree, her head thrown back and her eyes closed as he drove into her. He could almost hear her moan, feel the sting as her nails raked his back.

He cursed as he swam back to shore and shook off what water he could before getting dressed again. That was the last thing he needed to think about. He wasn't any more likely to get sweaty jungle sex from Kate than he was to suddenly become buddies with the good doctor and Ali.

Speak of the devil, he thought derisively, looking up to see none other than Jack coming toward him. He lit a cigarette and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting. "Hey, Doc," he said, his mouth stretched into a hint of a sneer. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Sayid says the guy who attacked Kate attacked you too."

Sawyer took a drag off his cigarette. "So, what? You come to make sure I'm okay?"

"No, I didn't. I came to see what else you're hiding."

"Why don't you ask Freckles, since she seems to be eager to tell everybody everything."

"Because she won't give me a straight answer, either."

"Well, Doc, there ain't nothin' else to say. He attacked me, he attacked her. I'm gonna find him and stop him. End of story."

"And why do I think that's a complete load of crap?" Jack asked.

Sawyer sent a dark grin his way, chuckling under his breath as he took another drag off his cigarette. "You're just pissed that she doesn't hate me the way you want her to."

"That's what you think? That I want everyone to hate you?"

"Not everyone. Her." Sawyer took a step toward him, his gaze turning dark. He was spoiling for a fight. He didn't care with who or where, and figured now was as good a time as any. He had to find some way to burn off the tension that was coursing through him. And suddenly he couldn't think of a better way than going head-to-head with the doctor. He didn't give a damn if it was immature. He wanted a battle.

"Kate's an adult," Jack said calmly, though Sawyer could see a hint of the jealousy he was trying to hide. "What she does is up to her. And I'm not going to fight with you just because you kissed her on the beach."

"She wasn't fightin' to get away, you know. And in case you were wondering, that wasn't our first kiss."

"I wasn't wondering. And I'm not going to let you bait me. I only came over here to try and get a straight story out of you, which I'm obviously not going to get."

"So you don't want to know that she initiated the first kiss?" Sawyer asked.

"No, I don't."

"And you don't wanna know that all it took was me holding up a bottle of water and she was all over me?"

Jack's face went red, and Sawyer chuckled under his breath when he saw Jack's fists clench and release. He stepped up to him, eyes shooting daggers, and Sawyer hoped he'd lose the battle with his temper and hit him. Then he'd have an excuse to hit back. But he didn't. He only continued to glare and said, "I don't know what anyone could possibly see in you."

Sawyer watched him walk away, the sneer still present. Yeah, he was an asshole, and that suited him fine. He didn't need to be surrounded by dozens of friends and family members. He didn't need constant companionship. Just a woman every now and then to keep his blood flowing.

That's what he kept telling himself as he walked back down the beach. He didn't need anyone. He repeated it as he loaded a couple bottles of water and the last of his peanuts into a backpack and slung it over his shoulder. He looked across the beach and found Kate ankle-deep in water, rinsing and wringing out the shirt she'd been wearing yesterday. She'd changed into a white tank top, leaving her sleekly muscled arms bare.

He shook his head and snorted, not wanting his thoughts to head in that direction again. He needed to concentrate on the task at hand; namely, finding the son of a bitch who'd attacked them both. He turned away from her, kicking up a pile of sand as he stalked into the trees. He wasn't going to think about her body, or kissing her, or sweaty jungle sex, any more. He was going to concentrate on finding their attacker. Not on some stupid fantasy that was as sure to slip through his fingers as the fact that they were stuck here and weren't going anywhere.

* * *

Kate sat beside the fire she'd just stoked to life, the sinking sun behind her. In the waning light she stared toward the trees, waiting to see Sawyer emerge unharmed. She hadn't seen him since their tense exchange earlier in the morning. She'd watched him walk down to the other side of the beach, and she'd turned back to him at one point and thought she saw him talking to Jack, but she hadn't been sure, and she hadn't asked Jack. 

She'd stayed mostly to herself all day. She didn't want to talk. She didn't want to answer questions. She didn't want to face the fear and suspicions of the other castaways. So she'd sat on the beach, digging her bare toes in the sand as the surf advanced and retreated. Watching the motion of the waves had reminded her a bit of her relationship with Sawyer. One minute they were right there, lips and bodies pressed together, the next minute they were butting heads and trading verbal jabs to push the other away. It was incessant, and it was tiring, and she wished it would stop, if only for a minute.

She added a few more branches and pieces of driftwood to the fire and tried to ignore the rumble of her stomach. After their food supply ran out, Locke had gone hunting and eventually returned with a boar, but she hadn't gone to get any of it yet, and no one had brought her any. Maybe they were afraid to talk to her. Or maybe they'd forgotten about her. She wasn't sure which option she preferred.

It was almost completely dark when she looked up and saw Sawyer coming toward her. He wordlessly handed her a small dish full of boar meat and sat down next to her.

"You went out looking for him, didn't you?" she asked. She looked over at him, but he studiously ignored her question, eating his own share of the meat. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Do I answer to you now, Freckles?"

"I'm just as invested in this as you are. I had a right to know you were going after him."

"Wouldn't have mattered if you'd come or not," he muttered. "I didn't find a damn thing."

"That's not the point."

"I'm too damn tired to argue now, all right? If you're so determined, you can come with me tomorrow. I'll even let you lug around the supplies."

"You're so considerate," she said, rolling her eyes, earning a reluctant smile from him. Given his earlier mood, she considered it a small victory. They'd both been so tense the last few days that any little moment of relief was welcome to her. She'd snatch up anything that could take her mind off her troubles.

"I try to keep everybody happy," he said, the sarcasm in his voice unmistakable.

She chuckled, feeling a touch of peace for the first time all day. She could deal with this, she thought, sitting by a fire, the witty back-and-forth engaging her mind, Sawyer's nearness engaging...other things. She could definitely deal with this, especially if it meant she no longer had to worry that a murderer was stalking her from somewhere in the jungle.

Some time later, long after she'd finished the boar meat and tossed the dish aside, long after Sawyer had disappeared into the trees for what she feared would be another futile night of watching and waiting, she felt her eyelids droop. She was so tired. She'd slept since they'd crashed, but she'd never really gotten the deep, restful sleep she needed. It was hard to do that, she mused, when she was sleeping in the sand without pillows or a real blanket. It was hard when the sound of the water rushing and retreating never stopped, and when almost four dozen other people slept not far from her.

A muffled shout pierced the still night air, and all her senses went on instant alert. She jumped to her feet, her flashlight clutched in her hand, trying to pinpoint the origin of the commotion. She looked down the beach as more sounds filtered their way to her. Shouts and struggles. Fear and threats and pleading. Her heart crashed against her ribs. She felt dizzy, nauseous. She trembled.

She turned and flashed her flashlight in Sawyer's direction, and almost instantly he emerged from the trees and came running toward her. "What the hell's going on?" he asked when he stopped beside her.

She didn't say anything. Instead, she moved, rushing down the beach as fast as she could. Sawyer wasn't far behind. She told herself to calm down, to stay focused. She needed her wits now more than ever.

Because their plan had failed. The attacker had returned, but he hadn't taken their bait. He'd chosen his own.


	14. The Hunt

Chapter 14: The Hunt

Kate stumbled across the uneven sand, her heart beating out of control. It was her attacker. She knew it. The trees weren't thrashing, so she knew it wasn't the monster. The attacker must have discovered what she was trying to do. He must have known they were trying to trap him and been smart enough to avoid the trap.

She reached the knot of people clustered together at the edge of the trees and stopped so abruptly she almost fell to the ground. She regained her balance and demanded through gasps for breath, "What's going on?"

Boone, standing near her, glanced over and said, "Some guy came out of the trees and grabbed her."

"Grabbed who?" she asked, immediately thinking of his sister. But she saw Shannon standing on the other side of him. She looked around, trying to see who she recognized amongst the crowd and who could be missing. She breathed a tiny sigh of relief when she spotted Claire, but in the dark and with the confusion surrounding her it was impossible to identify everybody.

"Someone said her name was Christine," Boone said. "Do you think this is the same guy who attacked you?"

"You mean there could be two of these freaks out there?" Shannon asked, grabbing Boone's arm and glaring.

Kate ignored both of them, fighting her way through the growing crowd. Jack stood in front, near the trees, trying to calm everyone down. "Kate, are you all right?" he asked when he saw her.

She nodded shortly. "Which way did they go?"

Jack looked into the jungle, then thought better of answering and looked back at her. But Kate had followed the direction of his eyes and didn't need the words. She knew where they'd gone. She was going to find them, and she was going to make the man pay for what he'd done.

She stalked toward the trees, but a rough hand grabbed her arm and spun her around. "What the hell are you doing, Freckles?" Sawyer asked, his eyes flashing with anger and something else she couldn't define. Maybe it was worry, maybe something else.

"I'm going to stop him this time," she hissed, low enough so that he was the only one who heard.

"He's armed, and he has a hostage. You gonna stop him with a flashlight?"

She jerked her arm away from him. "You think I don't know any of that?"

"Okay, everybody calm down," Jack called out. "Calm down. We're going to find her. We'll go in with small groups and fan out. We don't know where he went, but we know he has a knife, so _be careful_. Stay together, and watch out for each other..."

His voice faded out of focus. Kate glanced over as Locke walked up to Jack with some kind of metal suitcase. Sawyer looked too, and she took advantage while she could. None of them would understand. She couldn't live with any more guilt. So while everyone's attention was on Jack and Locke, she slipped away and ran into the trees.

* * *

Sawyer looked over in time to see Kate disappear into the trees. "Shit," he said, warily accepting a large hunting knife from Locke. He'd take the time to think about his suspicions later though. Right now he had bigger concerns. He hitched his backpack up on his shoulders and took off for the trees, not waiting for the doc to tell him which direction he should go. The doc was trying to organize a search effort, but he wasn't waiting around for an assignment. He had to find Kate before she got too far.

When he was far enough into the trees that the doc's voice had faded, he stopped and listened. He could hear Kate crashing through the trees not far ahead of him. He had to stop her. She wasn't thinking straight, and she was putting more than herself in danger by charging through the jungle like this.

He caught a flash of her up ahead and quickened his pace. He didn't call out, not wanting to alert the attacker in case he was near. Kate was making enough noise for both of them; he didn't need to start shouting as well.

He called out quietly when he was close enough, but she ignored him. He knew she heard him, because he caught the hitch in her step. He shook his head, muttering, "Damn, stubborn..." under his breath as he sprinted after her.

He caught her arm, but she jerked it loose and kept moving. He knew all about this kind of single-minded determination. He'd been consumed by it more than once. Which is why he knew it was going to take something a little more dramatic to make her snap out of it and see reason.

He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back against a nearby tree. Her back hit with a satisfying thud, her breath whooshing out of her. He crushed his lips against hers, lingering only long enough for the haze to clear from her mind.

"What the hell are you doing?" she murmured furiously, struggling against his grip.

"Tryin' to make you see reason, Freckles," he said, crowding her against the tree.

"I can see reason just fine, thank you."

"Is that why you're stomping through the jungle like a damn elephant?"

"Excuse me?"

"I could hear you from a mile away. Which means that that asshole can too."

"I'm trying to find them before it's too late."

"That's what everyone's trying to do, Sweetheart," he murmured. "What makes you think you're gonna be the one to stop him?"

"Because this is my fault, and I'm going to make it right."

"I'm the one who took the damn pictures."

"And I've had two chances to stop him and didn't. I could have checked to see if he was dead at the cockpit, but I didn't. I ran away. And when he attacked me on the beach, I got his knife away from him. But I didn't stop him. I ran away," she finished bitterly.

She looked up at him, her eyes fiery, and he stepped back when his body started to respond to her nearness. At the moment there was nothing he'd like more than to take her up against the tree and relieve some of the tension that had been building up in him for days. But unfortunately, they had more immediate concerns.

He looked down at her, and even in the dark he could see tension radiating through the tight lines of her body. The weight of her guilt hung on her shoulders, but she didn't have the market cornered, he thought. After all, she wasn't the one who'd spent the whole damn day in the jungle and not found a single sign of him. She wasn't the one who'd taken the pictures out of the briefcase in the first place. If he'd left well enough alone, none of this would be happening. But he'd tried to do the honorable thing, not leaving the grisly photos as all that remained of that woman, and once again it had bitten him in the ass.

The bruises on Kate's face were his fault. He hadn't put them there, but he'd given the attacker all the motivation he needed. The bastard had seen them together in the jungle, and when he found his briefcase and discovered the pictures missing, he had sought them out and found Kate.

He pushed the dark thoughts out of his mind. He could curse himself all he wanted to later. Or maybe he'd simply down a dozen bottles of airline booze and go numb. He shook his head, filing the thought away for later and said, "We need to figure out which way they went."

"They went this way," Kate said without hesitation, pointing ahead of her.

"And how in the hell do you know that?"

"Because these footprints are fresh," she said, flicking her flashlight on and gesturing toward the ground. "If these tracks were old, they either would have been washed away by the rain or covered with debris."

He looked at her for a moment, then shrugged and followed her down the narrow path. If she wanted to pretend that she knew what she was doing, that was fine with him. It wasn't like he had any better ideas.

* * *

Kate used her flashlight sparingly, going mostly by the moonlight that splashed down through the trees. She wasn't about to admit it, but she was glad Sawyer had found her. She hadn't paid attention to how much noise she was making as she charged through the jungle after the attacker and his hostage. Her mind had been consumed by anger and guilt, clouding everything else out, leaving room only for the knowledge that she couldn't let him do this. She had to get to him. She had to stop him.

How she'd stop him with only a flashlight, she had no idea. But she'd been determined. Whatever the cost to herself, she was going to fix this.

She should have known Sawyer would find her and stop her. In that usual arrogant, smartass way of his, he'd snapped her out of the haze and made her reexamine the risks she was taking. Not that he'd done anything to distract her from what she had to do, or change her mind. Rather, he'd made her step back and examine just how foolishly she was going about it. She realized he'd been right. She'd been running heedlessly through the brush, not thinking that the attacker could hear her coming.

But now she was focused and clear-headed. Or at least as focused as she could be with him beside her. It was hard to ignore his heat, ignore the way he pulled at her without saying or doing anything. Anytime he was near her she felt drawn to him, and it scared her to death. She had feelings for him, yes. She cared for him, yes. But she wasn't ready for this all-consuming need to be near him. It was almost obsession, and obsession scared her.

She did her best to push him as far to the back of her mind as she could. Once they stopped the attacker, there would be time to contemplate her relationship with him. If she could call it a relationship. Right now, she had to concentrate. Turn her confusion about Sawyer into anger toward the attacker and focus on finding him.

She heard a small noise up ahead and froze so suddenly Sawyer almost ran right into her. He cursed under his breath as he righted himself, but she ignored him. She clenched her fingers around the flashlight and took a deep breath. It could just be a rabbit, she told herself, or a mouse or any other creature scurrying through the brush up ahead. But instinct told her it was something else, and she wasn't going to ignore her instincts.

She motioned Sawyer to be silent and crept forward, carefully picking her way through the brush, making scarcely more noise than a breeze. For a moment she closed her eyes and listened. There was something moving in the brush. A fleeting image of the pilot flashed through her mind, a snapshot of his body caught up in the trees. But she heard none of the strange wails she'd come to associate with the monster, and no trees were being knocked down. More like pushed aside and batted out of the way.

Her heart leapt into her throat. He was up there. She could feel it.

She moved ahead slowly, a sense of caution warring with her urge to rush up and stop him now. She took a deep breath and told herself they had to be careful now. He was armed, he'd already attacked both of them, and he had an innocent hostage. She couldn't do anything rash and risk the other woman's life.

Sawyer suddenly grabbed her arm and stopped her. She looked up at him in question, then turned and looked around her, dread pooling and expanding in her gut. She didn't hear anything moving in the brush ahead of her. How long ago had it stopped? she wondered. In fact, the entire jungle seemed unnaturally silent, as if all of the creatures sensed a hunt, sensed the impending doom of the hunter's prey.

She unconsciously backed toward Sawyer, the solid bulk of his chest a trifling reassurance when the cold voice spilled over them.

"If either of you move an inch, she dies along with you."


	15. Battle of Wills

Chapter 15: Battle of Wills

Kate pressed her body back against Sawyer. Why hadn't she seen this coming? Sawyer had warned her that the attacker could hear her. Why hadn't it occurred to her that he would come back and eliminate the threat?

She watched warily as he stepped out of the trees brandishing a large knife. His eyes glittered with evil intent, and he smiled when he got a look at their faces.

"I hoped you'd be fool enough to follow me," he said.

"Where is she?" Kate asked, looking around but seeing no sign of the woman he'd taken from the beach.

He grinned coldly. "She's safe. For now."

"My ass," Sawyer muttered under his breath.

"I want to know where she is," Kate said with as much force as she could muster.

"And I want to know where you put my property."

"You want the pictures," Sawyer said, "You give us the girl."

"It doesn't work that way. I call the shots. You ever want to see her again, you do what I say when I say it."

Kate held her breath, waiting to see what his demands were going to be. But the pictures were gone; what the hell were they supposed to do? She felt Sawyer's hand against her back, anchoring her. He was probably thinking the same thing she was.

"This is what's going to happen," the man said, looking directly at Kate. "You're going to take me to what I want and you're not going to cause me any trouble."

"She's not going anywhere with you," Sawyer said plainly.

"Oh, but she is," he said. "If either of you want to get that girl back alive, you're going to do exactly what I say. She's out there somewhere. Bleeding," he added for emphasis. "If you want to find her in time you're going to need my help."

"You son of a bitch," Kate murmured, fighting to keep the fear from her face. For once, she couldn't think of a way out, and that scared her more than being held at knifepoint. The attacker she could deal with. But there was an innocent woman out there somewhere, and Kate didn't think she could live with any more blood on her hands.

She frowned when she felt Sawyer press something hard against her back. Her gaze slid down briefly, then shot back up when she realized what it was. She kept wary eyes on the attacker, knowing that she couldn't say anything. She couldn't tell Sawyer not to use the knife he'd quietly let her know he had. He couldn't use the knife until they knew where the woman was. If they killed the attacker now, they might not find her in time.

Her heart stuttered. This was getting out of control, and there was nothing she could do about it.

* * *

Sawyer swallowed his fury, clenching his fist around the handle of the knife. He felt the tremors running up and down Kate's body. She was damn good at hiding it, but he could sense her fear. She was terrified, and not just for the missing woman.

"That's right. I'm one big son of a bitch. So what does that make you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kate asked.

"I saw them put you on the plane," he said, and Sawyer felt her tense. Her muscles tightened, and the air around them became charged.

"I saw them walk you onto the plane and handcuff you to your seat. Tell me, what did you do to rate that kind of attention?"

Sawyer waited, not showing his surprise at the man's comment. So he'd seen them put her on the plane. Had he sat near her during the flight? Had he watched her, fantasizing about making her one of his victims? The mere thought made Sawyer's blood boil.

"Go to hell," Kate spat.

The man chuckled, but there wasn't an ounce of humor in it. He stepped a little closer, but still remained out of reach. Sawyer wondered if he'd be able to reach the man and disarm him before he did any damage. He watched the man's every move, every twitch, waiting for the right moment. And he watched the man's eyes as they wavered between anger and pure madness.

"I'm feeling magnanimous, so I'm going to let that one slide," he said quietly. "But this is the only chance you get. Piss me off again and someone gets hurt. Now let's go."

Kate shifted away from him, just slightly, but Sawyer felt fear well up so quickly he thought he might be sick. There was no way in hell he was going to let her walk away with this asshole. If he got her alone, she was dead, and he wasn't going to let that happen.

Kate took one small step forward, and Sawyer's hand shot out, grabbing her arm and squeezing hard enough to make her wince. "Don't move, Freckles," he said. "You're not going anywhere with him."

"I can handle him," she murmured softly.

"She's going with me if you want the girl to live," the man said. "How long do you think she can stay out there before the animals start smelling her blood?"

Kate choked on her breath, whether from fear or fury Sawyer wasn't sure. But he felt and recognized anger steal through her, because the same thing was happening to him. The bastard's words put things in a whole new context. It planted the image in his head of that poor woman out there somewhere, bleeding and helpless as the animals approached. He made a sound low in his throat, no longer thinking about stopping the man with his knife. No, he wanted to strangle him with his bare hands. He wanted to choke the life out of the sick son of a bitch.

The man stepped forward quickly and latched onto Kate's arm with his free hand, pulling her out of Sawyer's grasp. But before Sawyer could react, before the man could raise his knife to her throat, Kate jerked her leg back and slammed her shoe into his shin.

The man howled with rage, one hand rising up to clutch Kate's throat in a bruising grip, the other raising the knife high in the air. But before he could plunge it into her Sawyer moved, rushing forward and grabbing the man's wrist with both of his hands. He gripped it hard, crushing bone against bone, as Kate struggled to dislodge the man's grip on her neck. With a savage grunt the man dropped the knife to the ground and used a strength borne of desperation to shove Kate away from him. She slammed into a nearby tree and fell to the ground, dazed.

Sawyer's head swung around sharply, and the man used his distraction to his advantage, driving his elbow into Sawyer's gut. His breath left him in a gust and his stomach threatened to rebel. But he kept his feet until the man landed a vicious left hook, catching his cheekbone and sending him sprawling to the ground.

He shook his head and winced, feeling a trickle of blood on his cheek. He turned his head and saw the man stalk over to Kate, who had gotten to her knees and was struggling to get to her feet. He helped her by fisting his hand in her hair and pulling her up.

"You're going to pay for that, you little bitch," he growled, shoving her up against a tree.

Sawyer was on him before he could land the first blow. He jumped to his feet and rushed the man, catching him around the abdomen and pulling him to the ground. They landed with a thud and rolled several times, jockying for position. Sawyer blocked a punch and slapped the man's already-battered wrist to the ground. He howled in rage and pain, reaching out with his free hand and finding a rock. He swung his arm and smashed it into the side of Sawyer's head.

Sawyer fell to the side, his vision blurring, only then seeing Kate coming toward them, a large rock of her own clutched in her hand. "The knife, Freckles," he shouted. "Find the damn knife."

She turned frantically and started searching, but the only light she had was pale moonlight intermittently piercing the canopy of trees. She dropped to her knees and searched the ground by touch instead.

Both men struggled to their feet. Sawyer ducked the man's punch, slamming his elbow into the man's side as his momentum carried him forward. The man fell to his knees and Sawyer kicked him, sending him down the rest of the way. He curled up on himself and coughed.

He turned around to find Kate. She'd located her flashlight and was frantically scanning the ground for the knife. He would have helped her, but he couldn't remember where he'd been standing when he dropped it. She dropped to her knees and reached under a bush. A moment later she stood back up with a knife clutched in her hand. She looked toward him, then past him, and her eyes widened.

"Sawyer!" she shouted. "Behind you!"

He turned and caught a flash of something sailing at his head. He ducked back and it barely grazed his temple, but it still hurt like a bitch. He cursed, clutching at his head. Kate rushed up to his side, the knife clutched in her hand, but before she could pass him up he caught her arm and spun her back. They had to stop him now; there was no way around that. The man was too crazed to be reasoned with. He would never tell them where he'd hidden the woman. They had no choice except to put an end to his havoc. But he would be the one to do it. He wasn't going to let Kate live with the man's blood on her hands.

"Give me the knife—"

The man knocked him to the ground before he could finish the demand. His weight forced the breath from Sawyer's lungs, and he knew they had to end this here and now. He didn't have much strength left. This wasn't the movies. He couldn't take an infinite number of hits and keep going like nothing had happened. He was at the end of his rope.

Summoning the last reserves of his energy, he caught the man's punch and sent his own fist crashing into the man's jaw. The man's eyes squeezed shut, his face contorting with rage. He started to draw his fist back again, but suddenly a shout pierced the air and his eyes went wide. He froze, the rage draining out of his face as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. He remained that way for several long moments, as if frozen in time, then he fell sideways, landing on the ground beside Sawyer, stiff and unmoving.

Sawyer dropped his head back, his breath sawing in and out of his lungs. When he felt his breath coming back, he opened his eyes and lifted his head. Kate stood at his feet, wavering, shock and grief a potent mixture on her face. She sank to her knees, dropping her head, unable to look at the dead man for another second. Sawyer wanted to howl at the moon, to rage that she shouldn't have been forced to do that. He knew what it was to live with unshakable grief and guilt. He hadn't wanted that for her.

He didn't understand the protective instincts she raised in him. He'd been with his share of women, but none of them had ever done this to him. He wished it would go away. Life was so much easier when all he felt for a woman was physical attraction. That had been there since the first moment he'd laid eyes on Kate. But the rest of it, the need to protect her and keep the grief and horror at bay, was something completely new. He'd thought that he was immune to it, and he didn't like learning he wasn't.

* * *

Kate sank to the ground, fighting to keep the tears at bay. She'd never wanted to be in this position again. Never wanted to hold someone's life in her hands. Not that she was grieving for the loss of that man. He'd deserved to die. But with one plunge of the knife, she'd quite possibly condemned an innocent woman to a horrible death.

Sawyer struggled to his knees and came toward her. She reached for him, telling herself it wasn't because she needed him, but simply because she wasn't sure she could hold herself up on her own. She ignored the nagging voice in the back of her mind that told her she _did_ need him.

"He doesn't deserve your grief, Freckles," Sawyer said roughly.

She clutched his shoulder with one fist and pounded against his chest with the other. "I'm not grieving for him," she murmured around the lump in her throat. "But we'll never find her now. He was the only one who knew where she is."

"We'll find her," Sawyer insisted. "He stashed her somewhere and got back to us while we were still on this trail. She can't be far."

"Then why can't we hear her calling for help?"

"He probably knocked her out before he left her," Sawyer said, struggling to his feet and pulling her up after him. She held onto his shoulder for a moment, until she felt steady enough to stand on her own. She looked up at him, at the conflicting emotions swimming around in his eyes, and felt something shift inside her. Part of what she was anger, part grief, and part was something much harder to define.

She released her grip on him and slowly turned around until she found the spot where the man had first appeared. "He came from that way," she said, pointing. "Maybe there's a trail back there and he left her along it somewhere." She told herself it had to be true. They had to find her in time. It couldn't be too late. She had enough darkness in her life already. She didn't think she could live with any more.

They took off through the trees, holding onto each other to steady themselves. They said very little. Kate clutched a flashlight and swept it down the narrow path they found. Sawyer carried one of the knives; there was no way they were going to be caught unprepared again. The attacker may be dead, but there were other unnamed threats out there.

Kate guessed they had gone about a quarter of a mile when the trail widened and sloped downward. She slipped and slid down the slope, clutched at ground roots and brush as the still-wet ground played havoc with her footing. Sawyer was right behind her. They made it down the slope and continued along the path, periodically calling out the woman's name, though they never got a response. Dread pooled in Kate's stomach, but she ignored it and pressed on. She had to be alive. She wasn't going to let herself think of the alternative.

The path forked to the right, and when she made the turn she came to an abrupt halt. Sawyer plowed right into her, but she didn't even feel the impact. Instead, she stood still as stone, her heart caught in her throat, and stared.


	16. Guilt Trip

Author's note: Sorry for the long delay in getting this up. My muse decided to go on vacation without letting me know ahead of time.

Chapter 16: Guilt Trip

"Oh, God."

For several moments Kate was frozen where she stood, standing in the middle of the path. She stared, what she was seeing not quite registering. She tried to convince herself it was a trick of the light. It wasn't really there.

But it was there.

Suddenly she was moving, running, stumbling forward until she fell to her knees in front of the unconscious woman. Her face was smeared with light streaks of blood and she was slumped against the tree, held up only by the thin, flexible tree branches that were tied around her. Bruises were blooming on her face, and blood was trickling slowly from a wound in her shoulder.

She tore at the woman's bonds, raggedly murmuring her name, but there was no response. She checked for a pulse and felt a surge of relief when she detected it. But the relief was short-lived, because the woman didn't regain consciousness. How much blood had she lost? It was impossible to tell in the dark.

Sawyer knelt beside her and ripped away the last of the cords. The woman fell forward, and her weight sent Kate sprawling to the ground. She slid out from beneath the woman and rolled her to her back. "Why isn't she waking up?" she asked frantically. "She should be waking up."

"Easy, Freckles," Sawyer murmured.

Kate shrugged off the button-down shirt she was wearing over her tank top, balling it up and pressing it against the woman's sluggishly bleeding shoulder wound. "I think he stabbed her," she said. "We need to find Jack."

She fought back tears, struggling to remain calm. She couldn't lose her cool, not until they found Jack and got him here to take care of the woman. After that she could lose herself in the mayhem and find somewhere to be alone. But not before then. Not until they got this woman some help.

"Hold this," she said to Sawyer, indicating the shirt she held against the woman's shoulder. When he took it she shot to her feet, shouting Jack's name as she headed toward the trees.

"Where the hell are you going?" Sawyer called out to her.

"We have to find Jack! She needs a doctor."

"You ain't goin' out there alone."

"He's dead now," she said with a shudder, still able to feel the sickening slide of the knife as it plunged into the man's flesh. She had a feeling she wasn't ever going to be able to forget that, no matter how hard she tried.

"I don't give a rat's ass if we burn his body to ashes. You ain't goin' out there alone."

"Well, then, you need to go find Jack," she said, kneeling back down beside the woman. "We can't just wait for him to find us. She's going to bleed to death if she doesn't get help."

For a moment Sawyer remained still, his indecision clear. After all, the attacker might be dead, but the monster was still out there. And every rustle of the brush reminded them that they were vulnerable to any number of predators, human or not.

"Fine," he muttered finally, standing up with a shake of his head. "I'll go find the doc. You just stay right there." He turned away and started for the path, but almost immediately he turned around and approached her again. He held out his hand, and she looked up to see the knife he'd retrieved after the attacker's death. She accepted it quietly, then insisted he take the flashlight with him. Rather than argue as she'd expected him to, he snatched it up and stalked off without another word.

As soon as Sawyer disappeared down the path and into the trees, Kate felt an acute sense of loneliness well up. It wasn't just that she was alone with the unconscious, possibly dying woman. It was the fact that a terrible fear was trying to take root in her. A fear that in spite of finding the woman, they'd found her too late. A fear that no matter what they did, she was going to die.

And it was going to be Kate's fault.

Something skittered through the brush beside her and she jumped. She bit her lip, resisting the urge to call out for Sawyer. She didn't need him to protect her; she'd been taking care of herself for a long time. And besides, the sound of his footsteps had receded several minutes ago. He wouldn't be able to hear her.

She shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position. She looked down at Christine, afraid to lift the shirt and check the wound. How long was it going to take Sawyer to find Jack and get him here? She wasn't an expert, but she didn't know how much longer the woman could survive without help.

A tear slid down her cheek, and she angrily dashed it away. She hated tears, she hated weakness. And it seemed like lately she'd been feeling far too weak. She'd never needed anybody before, but she was starting to realize she did. And she didn't need just anyone.

She needed Sawyer.

* * *

Sawyer tore through the jungle, no longer caring how much noise he made. Matter of fact, it might help if he made a lot of noise. Might alert the doc, or someone who knew where the doc was. It was hard to tell in the dark how bad the woman's wounds were, but he wasn't going to piss around in the jungle because he didn't want to admit he needed Jack's help.

But despite all that, he just couldn't make himself shout Jack's name. He could only do so much, only go so far. He was chasing down the doc to admit that he couldn't take care of the woman himself. He wasn't going to shout his name. He'd find him and take him to Kate and Christine, but he wasn't going to shout his name. Maybe it was stupid and petty, and maybe in the back of his mind he thought that he could be delaying the woman's treatment because he couldn't push aside his foolish pride, but hell, he'd done stupid things before.

He thought it should count for something that he was trying to do the right thing now.

Because he didn't want to be out here, running Jack down. He wanted to be back there in the jungle, making sure Kate was all right. Making sure she didn't do something stupid like run off into the jungle to let the guilt swallow her up the way he wanted to. Because even if she'd never said anything to the effect, which she had, it was obvious she was blaming herself for what had happened to the woman.

He didn't know which one of them was more responsible. Him, for taking the pictures out of the suitcase, or Kate for running into the jungle and getting the whole thing started in the first place. Rationally he knew that neither of them was responsible, that it was all the attacker's fault. But with his head pounding in time with his heart, with his concentration absorbed in the task of keeping his legs pumping past the fatigue, there wasn't much room for rationalism. There was only room for adrenaline and the remnants of fear and doubt, for the memory of the look in Kate's eyes after she'd plunged the knife into the attacker's back—saving his life—and the sight of the unconscious woman tied to the tree.

He didn't see any sign of Jack, or anyone else for that matter, as he ran toward the beach. He stumbled over rocks and fallen branches, clutched at plants and palm fronds, and finally burst out of the jungle and onto the beach. There were people milling around, talking nervously and sending glances into the trees.

"Which way did the doc go?" he asked to anyone who would listen.

"You mean Jack?" someone said. They pointed into the trees. "He said he was heading that way."

Before anyone could ask what was going on, Sawyer took off in the direction he'd been given. He wasn't in the mood to answer questions. He wanted to get this over with. When he found the doc and took her to the injured woman, he could go back to his stash on the beach, smoke a couple cigarettes, and try to relax for the first time in the past two days.

But of course, there wasn't going to be any relaxation. Because whenever he closed his eyes, he saw Kate. And when he thought of Kate, he invariably got worked up. It wasn't something he could control, though he'd tried many times.

He rushed through the trees, noting distantly that the wind was starting to pick up. Apparently another storm was coming.

"Hey, Doc!" he shouted, determined to find him and get back to Kate before the storm broke. The last time a storm had broken in the middle of the night, she'd run into the jungle alone. Now, she was already in the jungle. If she went running again, he wouldn't be there to see which direction she went. He wouldn't be able to find her. "Doc, where the hell are you?"

"Who's out there?" a voice shouted from some distance off. Sawyer couldn't tell who it was, but he headed in the direction of the voice nonetheless.

"Hey, Doc! That you?"

He found Jack and Sayid a few hundred yards down the path. He stumbled to a stop, breathing hard. Ain't this just cozy, he thought. The two men he wanted to see the least, running around the jungle together. If it was another time, he might have needled them, said something to stir shit up just for the sake of stirring shit up. But for the first time in he couldn't remember how long, he bit his tongue.

"We found her," he said instead, inclining his head.

"Is she all right?" Jack asked. "Where is she?"

"Back there, with Freckles," Sawyer said. "She needs a doctor."

He turned and headed back down the path at a fast clip, knowing the two men would follow him. They did, jogging behind him as the wind kicked up a notch. He had to bat away stray branches that whipped into his path. The rain hadn't started yet, but he knew it would soon. Stay where you are, Freckles, he thought.

"What happened to her?" Jack asked, and for a moment Sawyer thought he meant Kate. But he shook off his errant thoughts, realizing Jack was referring to the injured woman.

"Found her unconscious. Looks like he stabbed her in the shoulder."

"And the attacker?"

"Dead," Sawyer said shortly, batting branches away more fiercely than necessary. He kicked at a rock in his path and sent it shooting off into the brush.

"Dead?" Jack said, surprise and suspicion clouding his voice. "How..."

Sawyer stopped, pivoting around and fixing Jack with a hard stare that dared him to say anything further. "He tried to kill the girl. He tried to kill Freckles. I stopped him."

The lie rolled off his tongue without conscious thought, but as soon as he realized what he'd said, he knew they wouldn't question it. Given both men's opinion of him, he knew they wouldn't doubt that he was capable of killing a man. Not that he gave a damn what they thought of him. He just didn't want the suspicion and resentment they directed at him to fall on Kate. He could take whatever they threw at him. He wasn't going to wish it on her.

He raced the storm, picking up the trail that would lead him to Kate just as rain began to fall. The rain spurred him on, quickening his steps when all he wanted to do was collapse and sleep for a week. Not yet, he told himself. Not yet. Get the doc to the girl, and get Kate back to the beach first.

When the eerie, frightening wails came to life, accompanied by the snapping of a tree trunk he pulled up short, dread lancing through his veins. No, damn it, he thought frantically, taking off again at a dead run. Whatever it was, it was up ahead of them.

Headed right for Kate.


	17. Exile

Chapter 17: Exile

Sawyer ran, long past the point when exhaustion set in. He silently dared the men behind him to keep up, and he knew somehow they would, even though they couldn't possibly need to get where they were going as much as he did.

He continued straight down the path, bypassing the fork that would take them back toward the attacker's body. Later, if they insisted, he supposed he'd have to point them in the right direction, but he'd much rather let the body sit out there and rot. Serve the bastard right. Abducting an innocent woman, attacking both him and Kate twice, trying to kill them both...letting the animals pick him apart was nothing more than what he deserved.

The noises seemed to be coming from somewhere to his right. Maybe it was the body, he thought. Maybe whatever the hell that thing was, it had found the attacker's body and was currently ripping it to shreds. He felt a dark gleam of pleasure at the thought.

He stumbled to an abrupt halt, right in the middle of the path. They were gone. Kate and the woman both had disappeared. He muttered a violent curse, something akin to terror taking root deep in his chest. Not now. Not when there was an end in sight, he thought. "They're not here," he said needlessly.

"Are you sure this is the right path?" Jack asked from behind him. "Maybe you got turned around in the jungle—"

"It's not the wrong path, Jackass," Sawyer muttered, spinning around and fixing Jack with a furious glare. "You see all that?" he asked, pointing to the end of the path where the rain had obscured, but not yet obliterated, the trampled ground in front of the large tree. The thin branches the woman had been tied with were scattered across the ground, but there was no sign of either her or Kate.

It wasn't until he ran up to the tree that he saw the drag marks.

* * *

Kate huddled in the bushes, pressing the shirt against the woman's wound, her eyes glued ahead of her. She clutched the knife in her free hand, prepared to strike out at anything that came near her. She ignored the corner of her mind that wondered how in the hell she was supposed to fight something so big, something she couldn't even see. It didn't matter that no one had ever seen it; she knew something was out there. She knew something had mangled the pilot's body, and she was prepared to use any means necessary to defend herself and the innocent woman.

She squinted against the slash of the rain, listening tensely as it moved closer, then further away, then closer again. It was searching for something, she realized.

_Just go away_, she pleaded silently, hating the weakness that seeped through her, hating that she was close to tears. She was supposed to be strong. She was supposed to be able to hold it together. Through all her months on the run she'd never once let herself cry. But the island was wreaking havoc with her senses, her emotions. Since the crash, she hadn't been able to control her feelings, and she hated it.

Suddenly branches snapped and broke only a few feet from her. She whirled around, a scream escaping her lips. She swung the knife wildly in front of her as something crashed to the ground. And then it was quiet, eerily so, the slashing rain lightening to a heavy mist. No creatures moved, no voices called out.

She wondered if she'd ever felt so alone.

She turned back to Christine, lifting the shirt and checking her shoulder. It was still bleeding sluggishly. Cursing under her breath, wondering just how much blood she'd lost, Kate wrapped the shirt around her shoulder as tight as she could, tucking the ends in to secure them, and jumped back to her feet. She had to know. The crash she'd heard moments ago, before everything had gone silent. Something had hit the ground, and she had to know what it was. That same nagging corner of her mind warned her that she wasn't going to like it, but she couldn't make herself stop.

She stepped cautiously beyond the safety of her shelter, the darkness swallowing everything around her. Clouds completely obscured the moon and stars, the rain adding to the confusion. She moved slowly, by feel, and was suddenly terrified that she would lose Christine. She had only moved a few feet at most, but when she turned back she could barely see the outline of the bushes she'd been hiding under. Taking a deep, resolute breath, she turned back and took another cautious step. She had to know.

A few steps later she fell flat on her face. Suddenly, without warning, she was on the ground. She spat dirt out of her mouth, groaning as the impact added a whole other round of aches to her already battered body. Dread pooled in her stomach. Slowly, carefully, she got to her knees, her hands probing the ground to find what had tripped her.

Her hand encountered something soft. Nausea welled up, but she forced it back, her fingers hesitantly moving over beard stubble until they came to a furrow in the skin, sticky with blood. She withdrew her hand in a flash, a low, animal sound of fear escaping her. She reached up with a shaking hand and felt short hair. A rush of relief filled her at the surety it wasn't Sawyer's body, followed quickly by shame. Sawyer might not be lying dead on the ground, but somebody was. That thing had killed someone and discarded the body only feet from her. She couldn't escape the feeling that this, too, was somehow her fault.

Weakly, she crawled back to Christine. If she cried, nobody would notice, the salty tears being washed away by the rain. If she was weak, nobody had to know. She could say her exhaustion was caused by the fight with the attacker, by the fight to keep Christine alive.

She had just sat down beside Christine when something big started rustling in the brush near her. Her grip on the knife tightened. She crouched on the balls of her feet, waiting, ready. Nobody was going to hurt this woman again. Not unless they killed Kate first. She was not going to be responsible for any more pain.

The branches directly in front of her parted, and she didn't hesitate. A cry on her lips, she sprang to her feet and lunged, the knife arcing high.

Something—or someone—caught her wrist before the knife made contact, and only when she heard her name being shouted did she realize that it was Sawyer who'd come through the brush.

"Freckles! Calm the hell down," he said, ruthlessly seeking her gaze and holding it, and she realized that somehow he'd known that eye contact was the only way to calm her down. The connection between them penetrated through her mind, clearing the fog that she'd been trapped in.

She held his gaze for the space of several heartbeats, then jerked her wrist out of his grip and punched him in the shoulder. "Don't ever sneak up on me again!"

He rubbed his shoulder, though she knew she hadn't hurt him. "Found the doc."

She looked up and saw Jack and Sayid emerging from the trees. With a huge sigh of relief, she turned back to Christine. "I don't know how much blood she's lost," she said as Jack knelt down beside her. "I couldn't tell in the dark."

He spared her a quick glance as he felt for the woman's pulse. "Has she been conscious?"

"She woke up for a minute when I moved her, but she didn't say anything."

Jack gingerly unwrapped the makeshift bandage and examined the wound in the beam of light from the flashlight Sayid held. Kate hung back, watching quietly as Jack dug into a small backpack for supplies and went to work. She felt Sawyer behind her but ignored him. She felt dangerously close to falling apart, and she was afraid of what would happen if she spoke, if she moved.

Jack worked grimly, occasionally wiping rain out of his eyes with the back of his arm. No one spoke except for a couple of occasions when Jack asked someone to retrieve something from his pack. Christine moaned, and Kate bit her lip to keep from moaning in return. She'd been here before. She'd watched helplessly as someone she knew slid toward death. Not that she knew Christine, but in a way she did. She was connected to the other woman by these extraordinary circumstances, and the responsibility she felt was the same as before.

And she hated it.

Glancing up at Sawyer, seeing that he was solemnly watching Jack work, she started to back away. Just a step, then she stopped. Then another step, another stop. Each tiny step she took, she looked back up at Sawyer, making sure his attention remained on the grim scene before him.

When she was far enough back that he couldn't reach her if he lunged, she turned and slipped into the trees. And when she was completely out of sight, the sound of her footfalls swallowed by the jungle, she ran.


	18. Fear of the Unknown

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who read my story and took the time to send me a review. Your encouragement is what kept the story going. And sorry it took so long to finish it. It's been so long since I've updated, I hope people actually remember this story. And for anyone who may be wondering, I've started working on a new Kate/Sawyer story, which I hope to begin posting soon. Now, enjoy the final chapter.

Chapter Eighteen: Fear of the Unknown

Kate sat in the sand, staring out at the water. She was still, almost frozen. She could have been mistaken for part of the landscape, just another piece of flotsam on the beach, had it not been for the occasional rise and fall of her chest as her body forced her to take a breath.

A part of her wished it would stop, that she could simply cease to be. That way, she wouldn't have to face it. She wouldn't have to think about it anymore. She wouldn't have to see Christine's battered body every time she closed her eyes. She wouldn't have to remember the slight suspicion in everyone's gaze.

And she wouldn't have to think about the fact that she was falling for Sawyer, a man who was completely wrong for her.

It had been a day and a half-she thought-since they'd discovered Christine. Kate had been in a daze since then, walking around during the day, staying at the fringes of camp, out of sight. She'd spent last night laying on the beach, unable to sleep.

She knew Sawyer was looking for her, and she wasn't quite sure why she was avoiding him. Of everyone on the island, he was the one most likely to understand her. He was the one least likely to blame her. Because he was the only one who knew what had really happened. He was the only one who'd been there. But she just couldn't bring herself to face him. Not yet. Her emotions were too raw. She needed to be alone, needed to try and work through everything in her mind before she chanced another encounter with him.

She needed to find a way to resist him.

She dug her toes in the sand and ignored the voice in her head that told her resisting him was a wasted effort, that whatever was happening between them was completely out of her control. There had been something, a spark, between them since his very first cocky admission, "I know your type." Well, she was pretty sure she'd thrown him for a loop with the truth about herself, but they were more alike than either of them had realized at the time. And it was that commonality that she was finding extremely hard to fight.

She'd been alone for a long time, and in fact had preferred it that way. Or so she'd thought. Crashing on the island had unearthed a few things that she'd rather have kept buried. Like the fact that she was more alone than she'd thought, and that it wasn't so great after all. And like the fact that the person she wanted to help ease that loneliness was Sawyer.

"The hell is the matter with you, Freckles?"

Her eyes sliding shut was the only move she made. She should have known he'd find her sooner or later. She should have known that she wouldn't be able to wallow in her self-pity indefinitely. She'd known he was looking for her, but she hadn't known that he'd find her so quickly.

"Excuse me?"

He stood several feet behind her, but she didn't turn to look at him. She opened her eyes and stared out at the ocean again, wondering if it was inevitable, the battle she sensed was coming.

"That's a hell of a damn walk you've been on," he said.

She stood up and brushed the sand from her legs before turning to fix him with a pointed glare. "Did you ever think that maybe I just wanted to be alone?"

"Something's out there killing people."

"And it hasn't made a noise in almost two days."

"Don't mean it ain't still there."

"You're worried about me now? Well, you don't need to be."

He raked a hand through his hair and muttered a curse under his breath. She turned and looked back at the ocean. She wasn't used to having anyone be worried about her, let alone a man like Sawyer. It was more than a little disconcerting. She was used to being alone, to fending for herself, and she wasn't sure how to handle this.

"So what are you gonna do?" he asked. "Just keep running away? Hide out forever?"

"Don't talk to me about hiding," she said, whirling back around. "You think you've got it all figured out because you know I was on the plane with the marshal? Well, you don't know anything."

"Then tell me what it was about," he challenged.

"Do I look like an idiot? I tell you everything, and you've got all the power. I'm not going to let you hold everything over my head."

"Sweetheart, I could've caused you plenty of damage by now if I'd wanted to. So what's it matter if you tell me the reasons? What's it matter if you're just gonna hide out here?"

She threw her hands in the air and spun away from him. She stalked down the beach, the breeze coming off the water whipping her hair around her shoulders. She pulled an elastic band out of her pocket and pulled her hair up and out of the way. She didn't want to think about everything that had happened. She didn't want to think about Christine, who was recovering in Jack's improvised med tent down the beach. She didn't want to think about the fact that even though she'd had no choice, she'd killed the attacker. And she didn't want to think about the fact that Sawyer was here, trying for whatever reason to break down the wall she'd erected around herself.

"Why don't you tell me some of your secrets?" she called out over her shoulder. "Tell me something nobody else knows. Level the playing field."

She turned around and watched him approach her. His expression was serious, not at all angry or taunting as she would have expected. And there was something else in his gaze, something that looked like regret. The look in his eyes stopped her in her tracks as nothing else could have.

"I didn't want you to have to do that," he said after a long, tense pause.

"Do what?"

He looked down at her, his gaze intense and searching, maybe even a little angry. When he looked at her like that, she was afraid that he would see clear through to her soul, discover all of her secrets.

"Take him out," he said.

"There was no choice. He was going to-" She froze, a little stunned by the admission she'd been about to make and its implications. "He would have killed someone else if we hadn't have done something."

"Not what you were about to say, Freckles," he said with a slight shake of his head, his brows drawn and his lips curled just a touch. She remained silent. "What were you really going to say? Before you stopped yourself?"

"Nothing. Forget it."

She turned away, but before she could take a step, he caught her arm and spun her back. "What were you really going to say?"

She gazed up at him, at the hard, determined look in his eyes. She felt the grip he had on her arm; not painful, but implacable. She didn't want to say it. The admission was going to cost her. It was going to give him the power that she didn't want him to have. Dealing with Sawyer was always a power struggle, and she didn't want him to have the advantage. Any more than he already did.

But his gaze compelled her to answer. There was something about him, some wild, untamed piece of him, that called out to her. She knew she couldn't resist it, whether it was asking for anything from information to a kiss. They'd gone too far, been through too much together already. "He was going to kill you, okay?" she said finally. "I wasn't thinking about any future victims. When I plunged that knife into him, all I was thinking was that I had to stop him before he could kill _you_."

For a long moment he didn't say anything. She wondered if this was what would define their relationship, angry admissions followed by awkward pauses. He gazed down at her, his eyes thoughtful and maybe a little angry. It was hard to gauge his reaction. She saw a flurry of emotions cross his features, none staying for more than a second or two. "You were trying to save me? Why?"

She shrugged. "Maybe I'm crazy." She pulled her arm away and walked slowly down the beach.

* * *

Sawyer watched her go. She'd done it for him. Though as soon as the initial wave of shock had worn off she'd been overcome with guilt, thinking she'd condemned Christine to death, in the heat of the moment she'd been thinking of him.

He didn't know whether her admission aroused him or scared the shit out of him. Maybe a little of both. This woman, this intriguing, mysterious woman-he still didn't know why she'd landed in the marshal's custody-had saved his life. She'd been terrified that he was going to die, and had killed the attacker to prevent it. He didn't know quite what to think. It was the first time in more than twenty-five years that he could remember anyone actually giving a damn about him.

He watched as she stood staring out at the water a couple dozen yards away from him. She'd stopped moving and was facing away from him. Her arms were wrapped around her body, and even from his distance he could feel the tension. He cursed under his breath. Who was he to give her comfort? What the hell did he know about making someone feel better? He'd spent a long time specializing in the opposite.

Before he realized it, he was walking toward her. He stopped a couple feet away, hating that he felt unsure of what to do next.

She turned and looked up at him, her expression unreadable. "I'm not ready to go back there," she murmured. "I need more time."

He glanced back down the beach, in the direction of the camp. "You think I came here to make you go back?"

Her lips tipped up just a bit, but her humor quickly faded away. "Why did you come?" she asked quietly.

"Hell, I don't know." He watched as her gaze settled on the cut on his temple. Her expression softened.

"Does it hurt?" she asked.

"Don't even notice it anymore."

"This is a bad idea," she said as he took a step toward her, closing the already small gap.

"Wouldn't be my first," he said as he dipped his head toward her. He wasn't going to resist any longer. He wanted to kiss her, and damned if worry over what anyone else thought was going to stop him. The attacker had almost killed them both, and the monster, or whatever the hell it was, was still out there somewhere. Who knew where the next threat was going to come from. As his lips met hers, he decided he wasn't going to waste anymore time. He was going to take what he wanted. And right now, he wanted Kate.


End file.
